“To each his enterprise
Will bring its good or ill. Jove is the same
To all alike. The fates will find their way.”
“Fortune assists the bold.”
Grasping this spoil, Turnus exults with joy.
Alas, how ignorant is man of fate;
Elated with success, how hard for him
To keep within his bounds? The time will come
When Turnus shall well wish that he had bought
At a dear price, that Pallas had been spared.
Then will he hate these spoils, and hate the day.
And now, not rumor, but more certain word
Of this disaster to Aeneas flies:
That on the narrow edge of dire ruin
His friends were driven; and the hour to help
The flying Trojans, urgent.
“What worthy recompense, lamented youth,”
He said, “what honors can Aeneas now
Bestow on virtues such as yours? Your arms
In which you did rejoice, retain them still.
And to the tomb and ashes of your sires,
If any consolation that may be,
I give you back. This solace too you have,
In your unhappy death, that you have fallen
By great Aeneas’ hand.”