479Then Turnus, long poising the oak shaft tipped with sharp iron, hurls it at Pallas and speaks thus: 'See whether our weapon is not more piercing.' 482He had spoken; 482but the point, with quivering stroke, pierces through the middle of the shield, all those layers of iron, all those of bronze, with the bull's hide wrapped round so many times, and bores through the barrier of the breastplate and the mighty chest. 486He snatches the warm weapon from the wound in vain: by one and the same path blood and life follow. 488He falls forward on his wound, his armour clashed over him, and dying he strikes the hostile earth with bloody mouth.
490Standing over him, Turnus says: 'Arcadians, remember and carry these words of mine to Evander; 492I send Pallas back to him such as he deserved. 493Whatever honour a tomb gives, whatever comfort there is in burial, I freely grant. 494His hospitality to Aeneas will cost him no small price.' 495And having spoken so, he pressed the lifeless body with his left foot, tearing away the huge weight of the sword-belt with a crime engraved on it: a band of young men foully slain on a single wedding night, and bloody bridal chambers, which Clonus son of Eurytus had chased in much gold; 500in this spoil Turnus now exults and rejoices to have won it.
501O mind of men, ignorant of fate and future lot, and of how to keep measure when lifted up by prosperity! 503A time will come for Turnus when he will wish he had bought Pallas untouched at a great price, and when he will hate those spoils and that day. 505But his comrades, crowding round with many groans and tears, carry Pallas back laid on his shield. 507O grief and great glory, you who will return to your father, this first day gave you to war, this same day takes you away, though you leave behind huge heaps of Rutulians.