It is Misenus who has died, killed by the sea-god Triton for his boast of superior skill on the trumpet.
Aeneas, with a sad face, lowered his eyes,
he walked on, leaving the cave, and turns over unseen
outcomes in his mind by himself. To him loyal Achates
comes, his companion, and he plants his steps with equal anxieties.
Between them they were stringing together many things in varied conversation,
of which ally as lifeless, of what body to be buried, had the prophetess
spoken. And they, as they came to the dry shore,
they saw Misenus, destroyed by undeserved death,
Misenus of Aeolus, compared to whom there was no other more superior
to stir up men with brass instrument, to ignite the field of Mars with song.
Here was a companion of mighty Hector, around Hector
he entered battles, conspicuous both with his trumpet and his spear.
And after the victor Achilles despoiled that one of life,
to Aeneas of Dardanus the bravest hero
added himself as an ally, he followed no lesser.
But then, by chance, when he with hollow conch fills the sea with sound,
maddened, he summons the gods to a challenge of song,
jealous Triton accepted, if it is judged credible,
and drowned the mortal between rocks and foaming waves.
And so everyone around raised a great clamour,
especially pious Aeneas. Then the commands of the Sibyll,
with scarce delay, they carry them out, quickly, weeping, and the altar of the tomb
they compete to build up with logs and bear it up to the sky.
They go to an ancient forest, high shelters of wild beasts;
pine trees fall headlong; the oak tree groans, struck with axes;
and the ash-wood beams with wedges and the easily-split oak
is cleaved; they roll giant ash trees down the mountains.