Book 11
(Perchance she fain on temple walls would hang
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the Trojan prize, or in such captured gold
her own fair shape array), she gave mad chase,
and reckless through the ranks her prey pursued,
desiring, woman-like, the splendid spoil.
Then from his ambush Arruns seized at last
the fatal moment and let speed his shaft,
thus uttering his vow to heavenly powers:
“Chief of the gods, Apollo, who dost guard
Soracte's hallowed steep, whom we revere
first of thy worshippers, for thee is fed
the heap of burning pine; for thee we pass
through the mid-blaze in sacred zeal secure,
and deep in glowing embers plant our feet.
O Sire Omnipotent, may this my spear
our foul disgrace put by. I do not ask
for plunder, spoils, or trophies in my name,
when yonder virgin falls; let honor's crown
be mine for other deeds. But if my stroke
that curse and plague destroy, may I unpraised
safe to the cities of my sires return.”
Apollo heard and granted half the prayer,
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but half upon the passing breeze he threw:
granting his votary he should confound
Camilla by swift death; but 't was denied
the mountain-fatherland once more to see,
or safe return,—that prayer th' impetuous winds
swept stormfully away. Soon as the spear
whizzed from his hand, straight-speeding on the air,
the Volscians all turned eager thought and eyes
toward their Queen. She only did not heed
that windy roar, nor weapon dropped from heaven,
till in her bare, protruded breast the spear
drank, deeply driven, of her virgin blood.
Her terror-struck companians swiftly throng
around her, and uplift their sinking Queen.
But Arruns, panic-stricken more than all,
makes off, half terror and half joy, nor dares
hazard his lance again, nor dares oppose
a virgin's arms. As creeps back to the hills
