And I, at Heaven's appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and funeral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow,
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer'd earth be theirs for which they
fought;

And which for us with their own blood they bought.
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend,
To the sad city of Evander send :
Who, not inglorious in his age's bloom,
Was hurry'd hence by too severe a doom."
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, now in death, lamented Pailas lay:
Acœtes watch'd the corpse; whose youth de-
serv'd

The father's trust, and now the son he serv'd
With equal faith, but less auspicious care:
Th' attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix'd with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevelled hair.
Soon as the prince appears, they raise a cry;
All beat their breasts, and echoes rend the sky.
They rear his drooping forehead from the ground;
But when Eneas view'd the grisly wound
Which Pallas in his manly bosom bore,
And the fair flesh distain'd with purple gore:
First, melting into tears, the pious man
Deplor'd so sad a sight, then thus began:
"Unhappy youth! when Fortune gave the rest
Of my full wishes, she refus'd the best!

She came; but brought not thee along, to bless
My longing eyes, and share in my success:
She grudg'd thy safe return, the triumphs due
To prosperous valour, in the public view.
Not thus I promis'd, when thy father lent
Thy needless succour with a sad consent;
Embrac'd me parting for th' Etrurian land,
And sent me to possess a large command.
He warn'd, and from his own experience told,
Our foes were warlike, disciplin'd, and bold :
And now, perhaps, in hopes of thy return,
Rich odours on his loaded altars burn;
While we, with vain officious pomp, prepare
To send him back his portion of the war:
A bloody breathless body: which can owe
No farther debt, but to the powers below.
The wretched father, ere his race is run,
Shall view the funeral honours of his son.
These are my triumphs of the Latian war;
Fruits of my plighted faith, and boasted care.
And yet, unhappy sire, thou shalt not see
A son, whose death disgrac'd his ancestry;
Thou shalt not blush, old man, however griev'd:
Thy Pallas no dishonest wound receiv'd.
He dy'd no death to make thee wish, too late,
Thou had'st not liv'd to see his shameful fate.
But what a champion has th' Ausonian coast,
And what a friend hast thou, Ascanius, lost!"

Thus having mourn'd, he gave the word around,
To raise the breathless body from the ground;
And chose a thousand horse, the flower of all
His warlike troops, to wait the funeral:
To bear him back, and share Evander's grief
(A well-becoming, but a weak relief).
Of oaken twigs they twist an easy bier;
Then on their shoulders the sad burthen rear.
The body on this rural hearse is borne,
Strew'd leaves and funeral greens the bier adorn.

No more to mother earth or the green stem shall
Then two fair vests, of wondrous work and cost,
Of purple woven, and with gold embost,
For ornament the Trojan hero brought,
Which with her hands Sidonian Dio wrought.
One vest array'd the corpse, and one they spread
O'er his clos'd eyes, and wrapp'd around his heads
That when the yellow hair in flame should fall,
The catching fire might burn the golden caul.
Besides the spoils of foes in battle slain,
When he descended on the Latian plain:
Arms, trappings, horses, by the hearse he led
In long array (th' achievements of the dead).
Then, pinion'd with their hands behind, appear
Th' unhappy captives, marching in the rear:
Appointed offerings in the victor's name,
To sprinkle with their blood the funeral flame.
Inferior trophies by the chiefs are borne;
Gauntlets and helms, their loaded hands adorn;
And fair inscriptions fixt, and titles read,
Of Latian leaders conquer'd by the dead.
Accetes on his pupil's corpse attends,
With feeble steps: supported by his friends:
Pausing at every pace, in sorrow drown'd,
Betwixt their arms he sinks upon the ground.
Where groveling, while he lies in deep despair,
He beats his breast, and rends his boary hair.
The champion's chariot next is seen to roll,
Besmeard with hostile blood, and honourably foul.
To close the pomp, Ethon, the steed of state,
Is led, the funerals of his lord to wait.
Stripp'd of his trappings, with a sullen pace
He walks, and the big tears run rolling down his face.
The lance of Pallas, and the crimson crest,
Are borne behind; the victor seiz'd the rest.
The march begins: the trumpets hoarsely sound,
The pikes and lances trail along the ground.
Thus, while the Trojan and Arcadian horse
To Pallantean towers direct their course,
In long procession rank'd; the pious chief
Stopp'd in the rear, and gave a vent to grief.

66

The public care," he said, "which war attends,
Diverts our present woes, at least suspends ;
Peace with the manes of great Pallas dwell;
Hail, holy relics, and a last farewell!"

He said no more, but inly though he mourn'd,
Restrain'd his tears, and to the camp return'd.
Now suppliants, from Laurentum sent, demand
A truce, with olive branches in their hand.
Obtest his clemency, and from the plain
Beg leave to draw the bodies of their slain.
They plead, that none those common rites deny
To conquer'd foes, that in fair battle die.
All cause of hate was ended in their death;
Nor could he war with bodies void of breath.
A king, they hop'd, would hear a king's request:
Whose son he once was call'd, and once his guest.
Their suit, which was too just to be deny'd,
The hero grants, and farther thus reply'd:
"O Latian princes, how severe a fate,
In causeless quarrels, has involv'd your state!
And arm'd against an unoffending man,
Who sought your friendship ere the war began!
You beg a truce, which I would gladly give,
Not only for the slain, but those who live.

I came not hither but by Heaven's command,
And sent by fate to share the Latian land.

Nor wage I wars unjust; your king deny'd
My proffer'd friendship, and my promis'd bride.
Left me for Turnus; Turous then should try
His cause in arms, to conquer or to die.
My right and his are in dispute: the slain
Fell without fault, our quarrel to maintain.
In equal arms let us alone contend;

And let him vanquish, whom his fates befriend.
This is the way, so tell him, to possess
The royal virgin, and restore the peace.
Bear this my message back; with ample leave
That your slain friends may funeral-rites receive."
Thus having said, th' ambassadors, amaz'd,
Stood mute a while, and on each other gaz'd:
Drances, their chief, who harbour'd in his breast
Long hate to Turnus, as his foe profest,
Broke silence first, and to the godlike man,
With graceful action bowing, thus began:

"Auspicious prince, in arms a mighty name,
But yet whose actions far transcend your fame:
Would I your justice or your force express,
Thought can but equal; and all words are less :
Your answer we shall thankfully relate,
And favours granted to the Latian state:
If wish'd success your labour shall attend,
Think peace concluded, and the king your friend:
Let Turnus leave the realm to your command:
And seek alliance in some other land:
Build you the city which your fates assign:
We should be proud in the great work to join."
Thus Drances; and his words so well persuade
The rest impower'd, that soon a truce is made.
Twelve days the term allow'd: and during those,
Latians and Trojans, now no longer foes,
Mix'd in the woods, for funeral piles prepare,
To fell the timber, and forget the war.
Loud axes through the groaning groves resound:
Oak, mountain-ash, and poplar, spread the ground:
Firs fall from high: and some the trunks receive,
In loaden wains, with wedges some they cleave.
And now the fatal news by Fame is blown
Through the short circuit of th' Arcadian town,
Of Pallas slain by Fame, which just before
His triumphs on distended pinions bore.
Rushing from out the gate, the people stand,
Each with a funeral flambeau in his hand :
Wildly they stare, distracted with amaze :
The fields are lighten'd with a fiery blaze,
That cast a sullen splendour on their friends
(The marching troop which their dread prince at-
tends).

Both parties meet: they raise a doleful cry:
The matrons from the walls with shrieks reply:
And their mixt mourning rends the vaulted sky.
The town is fill'd with tumult and with tears,
Till the loud clamours reach Evander's ears;
Forgetful of his state, he runs along

With a disorder'd pace, and cleaves the throng:
Falls on the corpse, and groaning there he lies,
With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes:
Short sighs and sobs succeed: till sorrow breaks
A passage, and at once he weeps and speaks.

"O Pallas! thou hast fail'd thy plighted word!
To fight with caution, not to tempt the sword,
I warn'd thee, but in vain; for well I knew
What perils youthful ardour would pursue :
That boiling blood would carry thee to far:
Young as thou wert in dangers, raw to war!
O curst essay of arms, disastrous doom,
Prelude of bloody fields, and fights to come!

Hard elements of inauspicious war,

Vain vows to Heaven, and unavailing care!
Thrice happy thou, dear partner of my bed,
Whose holy soul the stroke of fortune fled:
Prescious of ills, and leaving me behind,
To drink the dregs of life by fate assign'd.
Beyond the goal of nature I have gone;
My Pallas late set out, but reach'd too soon.
If, from my league against th' Ausonian state,
Amid their weapons I had found my fate,
(Deserv'd from them) then I had been return'd
A breathless victor, and my son had mourn'd.
Yet will not I my Trojan friend upbraid,
Nor grudge th' alliance I so gladly made.
'Twas not his fault my Pallas fell so young,
But my own crime for having liv'd too long.
Yet, since the gods had destin'd him to die,
At least he led the way to victory:

First for his friends he won the fatal shore,
And sent whole herds of slaughter'd foes before:
A death too great, too glorious to deplore.
Nor will I add new honours to thy grave;
Content with those the Trojan hero gave.
That funeral pomp thy Phrygian friends design'd:
In which the Tuscan chiefs and army join'd:
Great spoils, and trophies, gain'd by thee, they

bear:

Then let thy own achievements be thy share.
Ev'n thou, O Turnus! hadst a trophy stood,
Whose mighty trunk had better grac'd the wood,
If Pallas had arriv'd, with equal length
Of years, to match thy bulk with equal strength.
But why, unhappy man, dost thou detain
These troops to view the tears thou shedd'st in vain!
Go, friends, this message to your lord relate;
Tell him, that if I bear my bitter fate,
And after Pallas' death, live lingering on,
'Tis to behold his vengeance for my son.
I stay for Turnus; whose devoted head
Is owing to the living and the dead:
My son and I expect it from his hand:
'Tis all that he can give, or we demand.
Joy is no more; but I would gladly go,
To greet my Pallas with such news below."

The morn had now dispell'd the shades of night?
Restoring toils, when she restor'd the light:
The Trojan king, and Tuscan chief, coinmand
To raise the piles along the winding strand:
Their friends convey the dead to funeral fires;
Black smouldring smoke from the green wood ex-
pires;
[retires.

The light of Heaven is chok'd, and the new day
Then thrice around the kindled piles they go
(For ancient custom had ordain'd it so).
Thrice horse and foot about the fires are led,
And thrice with loud laments they hail the dead.
Tears trickling down their breasts bedew the

ground;

And drums and trumpets mix their mournful sound.
Amid the blaze, their pious brethren throw
The spoils, in battle taken from the foe;
Helms, bits embost, and swords of shining steel,
One casts a target, one a chariot-wheel:
Some to their fellows their own arms restore:
The falchions which in luckless fight they bore:
Their bucklers pierc'd, their darts bestow'd in
vain,

And shiver'd lances gather'd from the plain :
Whole herds of offer'd bulls about the fire,
And bristled boars, and woolly sheep, expire

Around the piles a careful troop attends,
To watch the wasting flames, and weep their burn-
ing friends.

Lingering along the shore, till dewy night
New decks the face of Heaven with starry light.
The conquer'd Latians, with like pious care,
Piles without number for their dead prepare;
Part, in the places where they fell are laid;
And part are to the neighbouring fields convey'd.
The corpse of kings, and captains of renown,
Borne off in state, are bury'd in the town:
The rest uuhonour'd, and without a name,
Are cast a common heap, to feed the flame.
Trojans and Latians vie with like desires
To make the field of battle shine with fires;
And the promiscuous blaze to Heaven aspires.

Now had the morning thrice renew'd the light,
And thrice dispell'd the shadows of the night;
When those who round the wasted fires remain,
Perform the last sad office to the slain :
They rake the yet warm ashes from below;
These, and the bones unburn'd, in earth bestow:
These relics with their country-rites they grace;
And raise a mount of turf to mark the place.

[name

But, in the palace of the king, appears A scene more solemn, and a pomp of tears. Maids, matrons, widows, mix their common moans: Orphans their sires, and sires lament their sons. All in that universal sorrow share, And curse the cause of this unhappy war. A broken league, a bride unjustly sought, A crown usurp'd, which with their blood is brought! These are the crimes, with which they load the Of Turnus, and on him alone exclaim. "Let him, who lords it o'er th' Ausonian land, Engage the Trojan hero hand to hand : His is the gain, our lot is but to serve: Tis just, the sway he seeks, he should deserve." This Drances aggravates; and adds, with spite, His foe expects, and dares him to the fight. Nor Turnus wants a party, to support His cause and credit, in the Latian court. His former acts secure his present fame; And the queen shades him with her mighty name. While thus their factious minds with fury burn; The legates from th' Ætolian prince return: Sad news they bring, that, after all the cost, And care employ'd, their embassy is lost: That Diomede refus'd his aid in war; Unmov'd with presents, and as deaf to prayer. Some new alliance must elsewhere be sought; Or peace with Troy on hard conditions bought. Latinus, sunk in sorrow, finds too late A foreign son is pointed out by fate: And still Æneas shall Lavinia wed, The wrath of Heaven is hovering o'er his head. The gods, he saw, espous'd the juster side, When late their titles in the field were try'd: Witness the fresh laments, and funeral tears undry'd.

Thus, full of anxious thought, he summons all The Latian senate to the council-hall : The princes come, commanded by their head, And crowd the paths that to the palace lead. Supreme in power, and reverenc'd for his years, He takes the throne, and in the midst appears : Majestically sad, he sits in state,

And bids his envoys their success relate.

When Venulus began, the murmuring sound Was hush'd, and sacred silence reign'd around.

"We have," said he, "perform'd your high com-
And pass'd with peril a long tract of land: [mand:
We reach'd the place desir'd, with wonder fill'd,
The Grecian tents and rising towers beheld.
Great Diomede has compass'd round with walls
The city which Argyripa he calls;

From his own Argos nam'd: we touch'd, with joy,
The royal hand that ras'd unhappy Troy.
When introduc'd, our presents first we bring,
Then crave an instant audience from the king:
His leave obtain'd, our native soil we name;
And tell th' important cause for which we came,
Attentively he heard us, while we spoke;
Then, with soft accents, and a pleasing look,
Made this return: Ausonian race, of old
Renown'd for peace, and for an age of gold,
What madness has your alter'd minds possess'd,
To change for war hereditary rest?

Solicit arms unknown, and tempt the sword
(A needless ill your ancestors abhorr'd).
We (for myself I speak, and all the name
Of Grecians, who to Troy's destruction came
Omitting those who were in battle slain,
Or borne by rolling Simois to the main :
Not one but suffer'd, and too dearly bought
The prize of honour which in arms he sought,
Some doom'd to death, and some in exile driven
Out-casts, abandon'd by the care of Heaven:
So worn, so wretched, so despis'd a crew,
As ev'n old Priam might with pity view.
Witness the vessels by Minerva tost
In storms, the vengeful Capharaan coast;
Th' Eubæan rocks; the prince, whose brother le
Our armies to revenge his injur'd bed,
In Egypt lost; Ulysses, with his men,
Have seen Charybdis, and the Cyclops' den:
Why should I name Idomeneus, in vain,
Restor❜d to sceptres, and expell'd again?
Or young Achilles, by his rival slain?
Ev'n he, the king of men, the foremost namo
Of all the Greeks, and most renown'd by fame,
The proud revenger of another's wife,
Yet by his own adulteress lost his life:
Fell at his threshold, and the spoils of Troy
The foul polluters of his bed enjoy.
The gods have envy'd me the sweets of life,
My much-lov'd country, and my more lov'd wifes
Banish'd from both, I mourn; while in the sky,
Transform'd to birds, my lost companions fly:
Hovering about the coasts they make their moan;
And cuff the cliffs with pinions not their own.
What squalid spectres, in the dead of night,
Break my short sleep, and skim before my sight !>
I might have promis'd to myself those harms,
Mad as I was, when I with mortal arms
Presum'd against immortal powers to move,
And violate with wounds the queen of love.
Such arms this hand shall never more employ;
No hate remains with me to ruin'd Troy.
I war not with its dust; nor am I glad
To think of past events, or good or bad.
Your presents I return: whate'er you bring
To buy my friendship, send the Trojan king.
We met in fight, I know him to my cost;
With what a whirling force his lance he toss'd:
Heaven! what a spring was in his aim, to throw!
How high he held his shield, and rose at every
blow!

Had Troy produc'd two more, his match in might, They would have chang'd the fortune of the fight:

Th' invasion of the Greeks had been return'd:
Our empire wasted, and our cities burn'd.
The long defence the Trojan people made,
The war protracted, and the siege delay'd,
Were due to Hector's, and this hero's hand;
Both brave alike, and equal in command:
Eneas not inferior in the field,

In pious reverence to the gods excell'd.
Make peace, ye Latians, and avoid with care
Th' impending dangers of a fatal war.'
He said no more; but, with this cold excuse,
Refus'd th' alliance, and advis'd a truce."

Thus Venulus concluded his report.
A jarring murmur fill'd the factious court:
As when a torrent rolls with rapid force,

And dashes o'er the stones that stop the course;
The flood, constrain'd within a scanty space,
Roars horrible along th' uneasy race:
White foam in gathering eddies floats around:
The rocky shores rebellow to the sound.

The murmur ceas'd: then from his lofty throne
The king invok'd the gods, and thus begun:
"I wish, ye Latins, what we now debate
Had been resolv'd before it was too late:
Much better had it been for you and me,
Unforc'd by this our last necessity,

To have been carlier wise: than now to call
A council, when the foe surrounds the wall.
O citizens, we wage unequal war,
With men, not only Heaven's peculiar care,
But Heaven's own race: unconquer'd in the field,
Or, conquer'd, yet unknowing how to yield.
What hopes you had in Diomede, lay down:
Our hopes must centre on ourselves alone.
Yet those how feeble, and, indeed, how vain,
You see too well; nor need my words explain.
Vanquish'd without resource; laid flat by fate,
Factions within, a foe without the gate;
Not but I grant, that all perform'd their parts,
With manly force, and with undaunted hearts:
With our united strength the war we wag'd;
With equal numbers, equal arms, engag'd:
You see th' event-Now hear what I propose,
To save our friends, and satisfy our foes:
A tract of land the Latins have possess'd
Along the Tiber, stretching to the west,
Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till ;
And their mixt cattle graze the fruitful hill;
Those mountains fill'd with firs, that lower land,
If you consent, the Trojan shall command;
Call'd into part of what is ours; and there,
On terms agreed, the common country share.
There let them build, and settle, if they please;
Unless they choose once more to cross the seas,
In search of seats remote of Italy;
And from unwelcome inmates set us free.
Then twice ten gallies let us build with speed,
Or twice as many more, if more they need ; ́
Materials are at hand: a well-grown wood
Runs equal with the margin of the flood:
Let them the number, and the fort assign;
The care and cost of all the stores be mine.
To treat the peace, a hundred senators
Shall be commission'd hence with ample powers:
With olive crown'd: the presents they shall bear,
A purple robe, a royal ivory chair;

And all the marks of sway that Latian monarchs

wear;

And sums of gold. Among yourselves debate This great affair, and save the sinking state."

Then Drances took the word; who grudg'd long
The rising glories of the Daunian prince. [since,
Factious and rich, bold at the council-board,
But cautious in the field, he shunn'd the sword;
A close cabalier, and tongue-valiant lord.
Noble his mother was, and near the throne,
But what his father's parentage, unknown.
He rose, and took th' advantage of the times,
To load young Turnus with invidious crimes.
"Such truths, O king!" said he, “your words
contain,

As strike the sense, and all replies are vain :
Nor are your loyal subjects now to seek
What common needs require; but fear to speak.
Let him give leave of speech, that haughty man,
Whose pride this inauspicious war began:
For whose ambition (let me dare to say,
Fear set apart, though death is in my way)
The plains of Latium run with blood around;
So many valiant heroes bite the ground:
Dejected grief in every face appears;

A town in mourning, and a land in tears.
While he, th' undoubted author of our harms,
The man who menaces the gods with arins,
Yet, after all his boasts, forsook the fight,
And sought his safety in ignoble flight.

"Now, best of kings, since you propose to send
Such bounteous presents to your Trojan friend ;
Add yet a greater, at our joint request,
One which he values more than all the rest;
Give him the fair Lavinia for his bride :
With that alliance let the league be ty'd;
And for the bleeding land a lasting peace provide,
Let insolence no longer awe the throne,
But with a father's right bestow your own.
For this maligner of the general good,
If still we fear his force, he must be woo'd:
His haughty godhead we with prayers implore,
Your sceptre to release, and our just rights restore
O cursed cause of all our ills, must we
Wage wars unjust, and fall in fight for thee!"
What right hast thou to rule the Latian state,
And send us out to meet our certain fate?
'Tis a destructive war: from Turnus' hand
Our peace and public safety we demand.
Let the fair bride to the brave chief remain ;
If not, the peace without the pledge is vain.
Turnus, I know, you think me not your friend,
Nor will I much with your belief contend:
I beg your greatness not to give the law
In other realms, but, beaten, to withdraw.
Pity your own, or pity our estate;
Nor twist our fortunes with your sinking fate.
Your interest is, the war should never cease;
But we have felt enough, to wish the peace:,
A land exhausted to the last remains,
Depopulated towns, and driven plains.
Yes, if desire of fame, and thirst of power,
A beauteous princess, with a crown in dower,
So fire your mind, in arms assert your right;
And meet your foe, who dares you to the fight.
Mankind, it seems, is made for you alone;
We, but the slaves who mount you to the throne?
A basc ignoble crowd, without a name:
Unwept, unworthy of the funeral flame:
By duty bound to forfeit each his life,
That Turnus may possess a royal wife.
Permit not, mighty man, so mean a crew
Should share such triumphs; and detain from you
The post of honour, your undoubted due:

Rather alone your matchless force employ;
To merit, what alone you must enjoy."

These words, so full of malice, mixt with art,
Inflam'd with rage the youthful hero's heart.
Then, groaning from the bottom of his breast,
He heav'd for wind, and thus his wrath express'd.
"You, Drances, never want a stream of words,
Then, when the public need requires our swords:
First in the council-hall to steer the state;
And ever foremost in a tongue-debate.
While our strong walls secure us from our foe,
Ere yet with blood our ditches overflow:
But let the potent orator declaim,

And with the brand of coward blot my name;
Free leave is given him, when his fatal hand
Has cover'd with more corpse the sanguine strand;
And high as mine his towering trophies stand.
If any doubt remains who dares the most,
Let us decide it at the Trojan cost:
And issue both a-breast, where honour calls;
Foes are not far to seek without the walls.
Unless his noisy tongue can only fight:
And feet were given him but to speed his flight.
I beaten from the field! I forc'd away!
Who, but so known a dastard, dares to say?
Had he bat ev'n beheld the fight, his eyes
Had witness'd for me what his tongue denies :
What heaps of Trojans by this hand were slain,
And how the bloody Tiber swell'd the main.
All saw, but he, th' Arcadian troops retire,
In scatter'd squadrons, aud their prince expire.
The giant brothers, in their camp have found,
I was not fore'd with ease to quit my ground.
Not such the Trojans try'd me, when, enclos'd,
I singly their united arms oppos'd:

First fore'd an entrance through their thick

array;

Then, glutted with their slaughter, freed my way.
'Tis a destructive war! So let it be,
But to the Phrygian pirate and to thee.
Meantime proceed to fill the people's ears
With false reports, their minds with panic fears:
Extol the strength of a twice-conquer'd race,
Our foes encourage, and our friends debase.
Believe thy fables, and the Trojan town
Triumphant stands, the Grecians are o'erthrown:
Suppliant at Hector's feet Achilles lies;
And Diomede from fierce Æneas flies.
Say rapid Aufidus, with awful dread,

Runs backward from the sea, and hides his head,
When the great Trojan on his bank appears:
For that's as true as thy dissembled fears
Of my revenge: dismiss that vanity;
Thou, Drances, art below a death for me.
Let that vile soul in that vile body rest:
The lodging is well worthy of the guest.

"Now, royal father, to the present state
Öf our affairs, and of this high debate;
If in your arms thus early you decide,
And think your fortune is already try'd;
If one defeat has brought us down so low,
As never more in fields to meet the foe;
Then I conclude for peace: 'tis time to treat,
And lie like vassals at the victor's feet.
But oh, if any ancient blood remains,
One drop of all our fathers' in our veins :
That man will I prefer before the rest,
Who dar'd his death with an undaunted breast:
Who comely fell by no dishonest wound,

To shun that sight; and dying gnaw'd the ground.

But, if we still have fresh recruits in store,
If our confederates can afford us more;
If the contended field we bravely fought:
And not a bloodless victory was bought:
Their losses equal ours; and for their slain,
With equal fires they fill'd the shining plain :
Why thus unforc'd should we so tamely yield;
And, ere the trumpet sounds, resign the field?
Good unexpected, evils unforeseen,

Appear by turns, as Fortune shifts the scene:
Some rais'd aloft, come tumbling down amain;
Then fall so hard, they bound and rise again.
If Diomede refuse his aid to lend,

The great Messapus yet remains our friend:
Tolumnius, who foretels events, is ours:
Th' Italian chiefs, and princes, join their powers &
Nor least in number, nor in name the last,
Your own brave subjects have our cause embrae'd.
Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon
Contains an army in herself alone:
And heads a squadron, terrible to sight,
With glittering shields, in brazen armour bright
Yet if the foe a single fight demand,
And I alone the public peace withstand;
If you consent, he shall not be refus❜d,
Nor find a hand to victory unus’d.
This new Achilles let him take the field,
With fated armour, and Vulcanian shield;
For you, my royal father, and my fame,
I, Turnus, not the least of all my name,
Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand,
And I alone will answer his demand.
Drances shall rest secure, and neither share
The danger, nor divide the prize of war."
While they debate; nor these nor those will
Eneas draws his forces to the field; [yield:
And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed
Return, and through the frighted city spread
Th' unpleasing news, the Trojans are descry'd
In battle marching by the river's side;
And bending to the town. They take th' alarm,
Some tremble, some are bold, all in confusion

arm.

Th' impetuous youth press forward to the field;
They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield;
The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry;
Old feeble men with fainter groans reply;
A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky,
Like that of swans remurmuring to the floods,
Or birds of differing kinds in hollow woods.
Turnus th' occasion takes, and cries aloud,
"Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd;
Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls;
And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls."
He said, and, turning short, with speedy pace,
Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place.
"Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command
To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band.
Messapus, and Catillus, post your force
Along the fields, and charge the Trojan horse.
Some guard the passes, others man the wall;
Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call."

They swarm from every quarter of the town;
And with disorder'd haste the rampires crown.
Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late,
The gathering storm, just breaking on the state,
Dismiss'd the council, till a fitter time,
And own'd his easy temper as his crime:
Who, forc'd against his reason, had comply'd
To break the treaty for the promis'd bride.