And whate er price Amata's honour bears

Within thy breast, since thou art all my hope, 90
My sickly mind's repose, my sinking ages prop
Since on the safety of thy life alone

Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne-
Refuse me not this one, this only pray'r,

To wave the combat, and pursue the war.
Whatever chance attends this fatal strife,
Think it includes, in thine, Amata's life.
I cannot live a slave, or see my throne
Usurp'd by strangers, or a Trojan son.'

At this, a flood of tears Lavinia shed;
A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.
The driving colours, never at a stay,
Run here and there, and flush, and fade away.
Delightful change! thus Indian iv'ry shows,
Which with the bord'ring paint of purple glows;
Or lilies damask'd by the neighb'ring rose.
The lover gaz'd, and, burning with desire,
The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire:
Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spite,
Roll in his breast, and rouse him to the fight.
Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,
Firm to his first intent, he thus replies:
"O mother! do not by your tears prepare

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105

110

Such boding omens, and prejudge the war, 115
Resolv'd on fight, I am no longer free

To shun my death, if heav'n my death decree"
Then turning to the herald, thus pursues:
"Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news:
Denounce from me, that, when to-morrow's light 120
Shall gild the heav'ns, he need not urge the fight:
The Trojan and Rutulian troops no more
Shall die, with mutual blood, the Latian shore:
Our single swords the quarrel shall decide;
And to the victor be the beauteous bride."

He said, and, striding on with speedy pace,
He sought his coursers of the Thracian race.
At his approach, they toss their heads on high,
And, proudly neighing, promise victory.
The sires of these Orithyia sent from far,

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To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war.
The drifts of Thracian snows were scarce so white,
Nor northern winds in fleetness match'd their flight.
Officious grooms stand ready by his side;

And some with combs their flowing manes divide,

184

And others stroke their chests, and gently sooth their

pride.

He sheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mass

Of golden metal those, and mountain-brass.

Then to his head his glitt'ring helm he tied,

And girt his faithful falchion to his side.
In his Ætnæan forge, the god of fire
That falchion labour'd for the hero's sire,
Immortal keenness on the blade bestow'd,
And plung'd it hissing in the Stygian flood.
Propp'd on a pillar, which the cieling bore,
Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore ;
Which with such force he brandish'd in his hand,
The tough ash trembled like an osier wand :
Then cry'd,
"O pond'rous spoil of Actor slain,
And never yet by Turnus toss'd in vain!

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150

Fail not this day thy wonted force: but go,
Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe:
Give me to tear his corslet from his breast,
And from that eunuch head to rend the crest;
Dragg'd in the dust, his frizzled hair to soil, 155
Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fragrant oil.”
Thus while he raves, from his wide nostrils flies
A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.
So fares the bull in his lov'd female's sight:
Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight:
He tries his goring horns against a tree,
And meditates his absent enemy:

He pushes at the winds; he digs the strand

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With his black hoofs, and spurns the yellow sand.

Nor less the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms, 165

To future fight his manly courage warms :
He whets his fury, and with joy prepares
To terminate at once the ling'ring wars;

To cheer his chiefs and tender son, relates

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What heav'n had promis'd, and expounds the fates. Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease

The rage of arms, and ratify the peace.

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The morn ensuing, from the mountain's height, Had scarcely spread the skies with rosy light: Th' etherial coursers, bounding from the sea, From out their flaming nostrils breath'd the day; When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard, In friendly labour join'd, the list prepar❜d. Beneath the walls, they measure out the space; Then sacred altars rear, on sods of grass, Where, with religious rites, their common gods they

place.

In purest white, the priests their heads attire,
And living waters bear, and holy fire;
And, o'er their linen hoods and shaded hair,
Long twisted wreaths of sacred vervain wear.
In order issuing from the town, appears
The Latin legion, arm'd with pointed spears;
And from the fields, advancing on a line,
The Trojan and the Tuscan forces join:
Their various arms afford a pleasing sight:

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A peaceful train they seem, in peace prepar'd for fight. Betwixt the ranks the proud commanders ridę, Glitt'ring with gold, and vests in purple died

Here Mnestheus, author of the Memmian line,
And there Messapus, born of seed divine.

The sign is giv'n; and, round the listed space,
Each man in order fills his
proper place.

Reclining on their ample shields, they stand,
And fix their pointed lances in the sand.

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Now, studious of the sight, a num'rous throng 200
Of either sex promiscuous, old and young,
Swarm from the town: by those who rest behind,
The gates and walls, and houses' tops, are lin'd.
Meantime the queen of heav'n beheld the sight,
With eyes unpleas'd, from mount Albano's height:
(Since call'd Albano by succeeding fame,
But then an empty hill, without a name.)
She thence survey'd the field, the Trojan pow'rs,
The Latian squadrons, and Laurentine tow`rs.
Then thus the goddess of the skies bespake,
With sighs and tears, the goddess of the lake,

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King Turnus' sister, once a lovely maid,

Ere to the lust of lawless Jove betray'dCompress'd by force, but, by the grateful god, Now made the Naïs of the neighb'ring flood. 215 "O nymph, the pride of living lakes! (said she)