Aeneas prepares for a hopeless fight

“Arma amens capio; nec sat rationis in armis,
sed glomerare manum bello et concurrere in arcem
cum sociis ardent animi; furor iraque mentem
praecipitant, pulchrumque mori succurrit in armis.
ecce autem telis Panthus elapsus Achivom,
Panthus Othryades, arcis Phoebique sacerdos,
sacra manu victosque deos parvumque nepotem
ipse trahit, cursuque amens ad limina tendit.
“Quo res summa, loco, Panthu? quam prendimus arcem?”
vix ea fatus eram, gemitu cum talia reddit:
“Venit summa dies et ineluctabile tempus
Dardaniae: fuimus Troes, fuit Ilium et ingens
gloria Teucrorum; ferus omnia Iuppiter Argos
transtulit; incensa Danai dominantur in urbe.
arduus armatos mediis in moenibus adstans
fundit equus, victorque Sinon incendia miscet
insultans; portis alii bipatentibus adsunt,
milia quot magnis umquam venere Mycenis;
obsedere alii telis angusta viarum
oppositi; stat ferri acies mucrone corusco
stricta, parata neci; vix primi proelia temptant
portarum vigiles, et caeco Marte resistunt.”
talibus Othryadae dictis et numine divom
in flammas et in arma feror, quo tristis Erinys,
quo fremitus vocat et sublatus ad aethera clamor.
addunt se socios Rhipeus et maximus armis
Epytus oblati per lunam Hypanisque Dymasque,
et lateri adglomerant nostro, iuvenisque Coroebus,
Mygdonides: illis ad Troiam forte diebus
venerat, insano Cassandrae incensus amore,
et gener auxilium Priamo Phrygibusque ferebat,
infelix, qui non sponsae praecepta furentis
audierit.
quos ubi confertos audere in proelia vidi,
incipio super his: “Iuvenes, fortissima frustra
pectora, si vobis audentem extrema cupido
certa sequi, quae sit rebus fortuna videtis:
excessere omnes, adytis arisque relictis,
di, quibus imperium hoc steterat; succurritis urbi
incensae; moriamur et in media arma ruamus.
una salus victis, nullam sperare salutem.”
sic animis iuvenum furor additus: inde, lupi ceu
raptores atra in nebula, quos improba ventris
exegit caecos rabies, catulique relicti
faucibus exspectant siccis, per tela, per hostis
vadimus haud dubiam in mortem, mediaeque tenemus
urbis iter; nox atra cava circumvolat umbra.
quis cladem illius noctis, quis funera fando
explicet, aut possit lacrimis aequare labores?
urbs antiqua ruit, multos dominata per annos;
plurima perque vias sternuntur inertia passim
corpora, perque domos et religiosa deorum
limina. nec soli poenas dant sanguine Teucri;
quondam etiam victis redit in praecordia virtus
victoresque cadunt Danai: crudelis ubique
luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima mortis imago.”

“Madly, I seize my arms; nor is arming enough in itself – in my mind is a burning desire to gather a band for the fighting and rush to the citadel with my comrades; fury and anger drive me on, with the thought that death in battle is a splendid thing. All at once, here comes Panthus son of Othrys, priest of Apollo and the citadel, bringing in his hands holy items from the temple and the images of our defeated Gods along with his little grandson, madly heading for my door. “Where is the thick of the battle, Panthus? Where are we making our stand?” “The final day and the inevitable hour have come for our Dardan land!”, he answered with a groan, “We Trojans are finished, and so is Ilium and the immense glory of the Teucrians! Fierce Jupiter has given everything over to Argos. The Greeks are prevailing in the burning city. Sinon is setting fires, taunting us in his victory; standing in the centre, the towering horse is pouring armed men,  and more are coming through the wide-open gates, as many thousands as ever came from mighty Mycenae! Other spearmen are holding the narrows of the streets: blades flashing, a phalanx of drawn steel stands there, ready for slaughter; the first guards at the gates can barely manage to fight and are resisting blindly in the dark!” At this, I was borne off in a divine frenzy wherever the baleful Fury and the roar of battle rising heavenward called me. Rhipeus and Epytus, mightiest of warriors, and Hypanis and Dymas, coming up in the moonlight, joined me at my side, and young Coroebus, son of Mygdon, who had come to Troy at that time because he was madly burning with love for Cassandra, supported Priam and his Trojans as his son-in-law and, poor boy, had not heeded his bride’s prophecies. Seeing them gathered and ready to fight, I began: “Lads, stout hearts – in vain – if you want to follow me as I brave a certain death, you can see how our fortunes stand: all the gods by which this realm stood have abandoned their shrines and altars and left us. You come to the aid of a city in flames: let us charge into the battle and perish – the only safety for the conquered is not to hope for safety at all!” The young men’s courage grows to a frenzy; like hunting wolves, which dire hunger in their bellies has driven forth in deep darkness, while their abandoned whelps wait dry-mouthed, we press through spears and enemies towards a certain death, holding to the centre of the city, while black night swirls about us in darkness and shadow. Who could put into words the disaster of that night, or match with tears the toils that we suffered? An ancient city that has ruled for many years, falls; motionless, everywhere throughout the streets, homes and thresholds of the temples lie strewn countless bodies. Not only Trojans pay with their blood: the old courage returns even to the hearts of the defeated, and Greeks die in victory: the cruel struggle, fear, and death in its many forms, are everywhere.”