Then are we sent to range Elysium's sweets:
And few we are who gain these blissful seats,
Till, his full orb complete, long toiling Time
Has cleansed the foulness of concreted crime;
And left, in all its native radiance bright,
The etherial sense of elemental light.

Then, when a thousand circling years have roll'd, These all to Lethe crowd, by Heaven controll'd: That, thence unconscious, they may wish anew To breathe in bodies, and the sun review.'

SYMMONS.

THE

DEATH OF LAUSUS AND MEZENTIUS.

FROM THE LATIN OF VIRGIL.

BUT now Mezentius shakes aloft his shield;
And bursts in stronger tempest on the field.
Like vast Orion, when with giant stride
He walks through ocean and surmounts the tide :
Or, in his grasp an ash, the mountain's boast,
Treads earth, and looks amid the starry host.
Thus tower'd Mezentius mid the ranks of fight;
When from afar Æneas mark'd his might;
And hasten'd to oppose it: void of fear
The Tuscan sees the mighty foe draw near;
And firmly on his massy bulk relies:
Then measuring his distance with his eyes:
'Now may this hand and lance, the gods I trust,
To my bold purpose, as they wont, be just!
His spoils, my Lausus! from the pirate torn,
By thee, illustrious trophies, shall be worn,'

He said, and hurl'd from far his sounding lance; Which, striking on the shield, with rapid glance Err'd to Antores, and his bowels rent:

Alcides' comrade he, from Argos sent

To share Evander's fortunes o'er the main.

Now, by another's wound untimely slain,

He falls; and, gazing wildly on the skies,
On his dear Argos fondly thinks, and dies.
Eneas then dismiss'd his mighty spear:
Through the strong shield it held its fierce career.
The folds of linen offer'd slight delay:

The triple brass and triple hide gave way.
Through each defence the furious weapon pass'd;
And, reaching to the groin, there staid at last;
Nor longer kept its force: rejoiced to view
The Tuscan's blood, his sword Æneas drew;
And on the daunted foe like a strong tempest flew.
When Lausus saw his much loved sire's distress,
He groans, and tears his anguish'd soul confess.
And here, illustrious youth! if future time
Will yield belief to virtue so sublime,

Thy deed, thy fate my song shall give to fame ;
And distant ages, weeping, hail thy name.
The impeded father, with the foot of pain,
Drew slowly back, and trail'd along the plain
The hostile javelin; while the son, beneath
The high-raised falchion springing, braved its
death,

And check'd the hero. As the filial shield
Cover'd the sire retreating from the field,
Shouts of applause from all his friends resound;
And their thick falling darts the foe confound.
He rages, and behind his shield remains,
As, when the clouds drive hail upon the plains,

Gall'd by the shower, the traveller and hind
Speed to some refuge from the stony wind.
Or roof'd beneath a rock they shun the sky;
Or shelter'd by a river's margin lie;
Till, victor of the storm, with joyous ray
The sun restore their labours with the day.
Thus overwhelm'd with missiles from afar,
Æneas stands protected from the war;

And, chiding Lausus, threats him from his fate: Ah! why, fond youth! beyond thy strength be great?

And dare a deed that prudence would dissuade ?
On death thou runn'st, by piety betray'd.'
But Lausus not the less the foe defies;
Till all the terrors of the Dardan rise;

And the Fates spin the youth's extremest thread:
For the puissant sword with fury sped,
Aim'd at his body, plunges in his breast
Through the light buckler, and the embroider'd

vest.

(That vest, dear offering of parental love,
His mother's tender hand with gold enwove.)
Gore floats his bosom, and, in pale divorce,
Parts the sad spirit from the falling corse.
But when his face, as life's warm colours fade,
Pale, deadly pale, Anchises' son survey'd;
All rage extinct, he heaves the heart deep groan,
Moved with a piety so like his own: [thine

Then, stretching out his hand; To worth like
What equal honours can my power assign?
Unhappy boy! Æneas, feeble here,

Can only give thy pious love a tear.

Keep thy dear arms! and, if that touch the dead, Rest with thy sires in one sepulchral bed.

This may at least console thy mournful shade; Thou fell'st beneath the great Æneïan blade.'

Upbraiding then the Etrurians' tardy fears, Himself the youthful hero's body rears: While their warm life the sever'd vessels pour; And all his comely tresses drop with gore.

Meanwhile the sire, reclining on the ground, With Tiber's wave refresh'd his glowing wound. His languid length beneath an oak was thrown; And pendent on the boughs his helmet shone. His ponderous arms reposed upon the plain; And round their monarch stood his chosen train. Faint on the trunk he gave his neck to rest; And smooth'd the beard that floated on his breast. Of Lausus much his anxious cares inquire; And oft he sends to bid him to his sire. But breathless Lausus, from the fatal field, Now his sad comrades bear upon his shield; The mighty vanquish'd by a mighty wound: And o'er the corse their loud laments resound. From far the wretched father's boding mind Caught the wild woe that groan'd upon the wind. His hoary locks he tore, and frantic spread Deforming dust upon his awful head: Clung to the body, and, by anguish driven, Raised his expostulating hands to Heaven. 'And could, my son! the base desire of breath Urge me to leave thee in my stead to death? And do I now by these thy wounds respire? The child thus bleeding to preserve the sire? Ah! now at length I feel my exiled state: Now, now the pang is exquisite with fate. My crimes, my son! obscured thy lustrous name: And hung a mildew on thy bloom of fame.

Driven by my people from my fathers' throne,
I gave my heir an exile's lot alone.

To my wrong'd country many deaths I owed;
And well for thee my guilty blood had flow'd:
Yet still I breathe with men, and drink the day—
But will not long.' Thus speaking, whence he lay
He rose upon his halting thigh with pain;
Check'd by the potent wound, but check'd in vain;
And, with a soul that pain and death defied,
Call'd for his horse, his solace and his pride
(His valued steed, who still had borne his weight
When conquest crown'd him on the field of fate);
And, as the favourite stoop'd his sorrowing crest,
His ear, that seem'd intelligent, address'd:
'Rhoebus! we long have lived, if long there be
In the poor term of mortal destiny;

Either, this day the Dardan's head and spoils,
In reeking triumph borne, shall grace thy toils;
And thou, the avenger of my hapless boy,
Shalt share with me the glory and the joy;
Or, if our daring shall our power exceed,
With honour and with me at once shalt bleed.
For well, my noble horse! I know thy soul
Too high to bear a Phrygian lord's control."
He spoke; and, rising to his seat, bestrode
The horse, familiar with his wonted load:
Then fill'd both hands with darts; whilst o'er
his brows,

Crown'd with its floating crest, the helmet glows.
Thus arm'd, he rushes to the bleeding fight:
And shame, grief, rage his madden'd heart excite.
Thrice with his utmost voice he calls the foe:
Eneas hears, and lifts his ardent vow:
'So may great Jove, so Phoebus grant thou stand
The challenged conflict, hand opposed to hand!'