Incidit ictus 
ingens ad terram duplicato poplite Turnus. 
Consurgunt gemitu Rutuli, totusque remugit 
mons circum, et vocem late nemora alta remittunt 
Ille humilis supplexque oculos, dextramque precantem 
protendens, `Equidem merui nec deprecor,' inquit: 
`utere sorte tua.  Miseri te siqua parentis 
tangere cura potest, oro (fuit et tibi talis 
Anchises genitor), Dauni miserere senectae 
et me seu corpus spoliatum lumine mavis 
redde meis.  Vicisti, et victum tendere palmas 
Ausonii videre; tua est Lavinia coniunx: 
ulterius ne tende odiis.' 

 
                                       Stetit acer in armis 
Aeneas, volvens oculos, dextramque repressit; 
et iam iamque magis cunctantem flectere sermo 
coeperat, infelix umero cum apparuit alto 
balteus et notis fulserunt cingula bullis 
Pallantis pueri, victum quem volnere Turnus 
straverat atque umeris inimicum insigne gerebat. 
Ille, oculis postquam saevi monimenta doloris 
exuviasque hausit, furiis accensus et ira 
terribilis, `Tune hinc spoliis indute meorum 
eripiare mihi?  Pallas te hoc volnere, Pallas 
immolat et poenam scelerato ex sanguine sumit,' 
hoc dicens ferrum adverso sub pectore condit 
fervidus.  Ast illi solvuntur frigore membra 
vitaque cum gemitu fugit indignata sub umbras. 
 

...struck, 
hugh Turnus fell to the ground with bent knee. 
Groaning, the stunned Rutulians 
rise to their feet, and the whoe hill resounds, 
The wooded heights give echo.  A suppliant, beaten, 
Humbled at last, his hands reach out, his voice 
Is low in  pleading: - "I have deserved it, surely, 
And I do not beg off.  Use the advantage. 
But if a parent's grief has any power 
To touch the spirit, I pray you, pity Daunus, 
(I would Anchises), send him back my body. 
You have won; I am beacten, and these hands go out 
In supplication:  everyone has seen it. 
No more.  I have lost Lavinia.  Let hatred 
Proceed no fuirther." 

Fierce in his arms, with darting glance, Aeneas 
Paused for a moment, and he might have weakened, 
For the words had move him, when, high on the shoulder, He saw the belt of Pallas, slain by Turnus. 
Saw Pallas on the ground, and Turnus wearing 
That belt with the bright studs, of evil omen 
Not only to Pallas now, a sad reminder, 
A deadly provocation.  Terrible 
In wrath, Aeneas cries: - "Clad in this treasure, 
This trophy of a comrade, can you cherish 
Hope that my hands would let you go?  Now Pallas, 
Pallas exacts his vengeance, and the blow 
is Pallas, making sacrifice!"  He struck 
Before he finished speaking:  the blade went deep 
And Turnus' limbs were cold in death;  the spirit 
Went with a moan indignant to the shadows.