Aen. 11.139Et iam Fāma volāns, tantī praenūntia lūctūs,
140Evandrum Evandrīque domōs et moenia replet,
quae modo victōrem Latiō Pallanta ferēbat.And now Rumour, flying, harbinger of so great a grief, fills Evander and Evander's house and city, Rumour which only lately was announcing Pallas victorious in Latium. Aen. 11.142Arcadēs ad portās ruere et dē mōre vetustō
fūnereās rapuēre facēs;The Arcadians rushed to the gates and, by ancient custom, snatched up funeral torches; Aen. 11.143lūcet via longō
ōrdine flammārum et lātē discrīminat agrōs.the road gleams with a long line of flames and cuts a path far and wide through the fields. Aen. 11.145Contrā turba Phrygum veniēns plangentia iungit
agmina.From the other side the throng of Phrygians comes and joins the wailing columns. Aen. 11.146Quae postquam mātrēs succēdere tēctīs
vīdērunt, maestam incendunt clamōribus urbem.When the mothers saw them drawing near the houses, they set the grieving city ablaze with their cries. Aen. 11.148At nōn Evandrum potis est vīs ūlla tenēre,
sed vēnit in mediōs.But no force can hold Evander back; he comes into their midst. Aen. 11.149Feretrō Pallanta repostō
150prōcubuit super atque haeret lacrimānsque gemēnsque,
et via vix tandem vōcis laxāta dolōre est.The bier set down, he fell upon Pallas and clings to him, weeping and groaning, and at last, barely, a way was opened for his voice through grief.
Aen. 11.152Nōn haec, Ō Palla, dederās prōmissa parentī,
cautius ut saevō vellēs tē crēdere Mārtī;'These were not the promises you had given your father, Pallas, that you would be willing to trust yourself more cautiously to cruel Mars; Aen. 11.154haud ignārus eram, quantum nova glōria in armīs
155et praedulce decus prīmō certāmine posset.I was not unaware how much the fresh glory of arms and the sweet honour of a first fight could do. Aen. 11.156Prīmitiae iuvenis miserae bellīque propinquī
dūra rudīmenta et nūllī exaudīta deōrum
vōta precēsque meae!Wretched first fruits of a young man, harsh schooling in a war close at hand, and my vows and prayers heard by none of the gods! Aen. 11.158Tūque, Ō sānctissima coniūnx,
fēlīx morte tuā neque in hunc servāta dolōrem!And you, most holy wife, happy in your death and not kept alive for this grief! Aen. 11.160Contrā ego vīvendō vīcī mea fāta, superstes
restārem ut genitor.I, on the other hand, by living have outlasted my fate, to remain behind as a surviving father. Aen. 11.161Trōum socia arma secūtum
obruerent Rutulī tēlīs!Would that the Rutulians had overwhelmed me with their spears as I followed the allied arms of the Trojans!
Aen. 11.162Animam ipse dedissem
atque haec pompa domum mē, nōn Pallanta, referret,
nec vōs arguerim, Teucrī, nec foedera nec quās
165iūnximus hospitiō dextrās: sors ista senectae
dēbita erat nostrae.I myself would have given my life, and this procession would be bringing me home, not Pallas. Nor would I blame you, Teucrians, nor the treaties, nor the right hands we joined in friendship: that lot was owed to my old age. Aen. 11.166Quod sī immātūra manēbat
mors nātum, caesīs Volscōrum mīlibus ante
dūcentem in Latium Teucrōs cecidisse iuvābit.But if an untimely death awaited my son, it will be a comfort that he fell after killing thousands of Volscians, leading the Teucrians into Latium. Aen. 11.169Quīn ego nōn aliō digner tē fūnere, Palla,
170quam pius Aenēās
Magna tropaea ferunt, quōs dat tua dextera Lētō:
tū quoque nunc stārēs immānis truncus in armīs,
esset pār aetās et idem sī rōbur ab annīs,
175Turne.Nay, I would honour you, Pallas, with no other funeral than dutiful Aeneas gives you. They bring great trophies of those whom your right hand gives to Death: you too would now be standing, a huge trunk in arms, Turnus, if he had been your equal in age and had the same strength from his years.
Aen. 11.175Sed īnfēlīx Teucrōs quid dēmoror armīs?But why, unhappy man, do I keep the Teucrians from their arms? Aen. 11.176Vādite et haec memorēs rēgī mandāta referte:
quod vītam moror invīsam Pallante peremptō,
dextera causa tua est, Turnum nātōque patrīque
quam dēbēre vidēs.Go, and remember to carry this message to your king: that I linger on in a hateful life now Pallas is slain, the reason is your right hand, which you see owes Turnus to son and father. Aen. 11.179Meritīs vacat hic tibi sōlus
180fortūnaeque locus.This is the only field left open for your merits and your fortune. Aen. 11.180Nōn vītae gaudia quaerō,
nec fās, sed nātō Mānīs perferre sub īmōs.I do not seek joys for my life, nor would it be right, but to carry the news to my son among the shades below.'