Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/410

'Aye, sit' cries Turnus, striking in
As for an instant flags the din,
'Sit still, and while of peace you prate
Let foemen armed assail your gate!'
He spoke, and speaking rushed away:
'You, Volusus, in arms array
The Volscians' warlike power;
Lead out the Rutules: Coras too,
Catillus, and Messapus, you
With horse the champaign scour.
Let others every inlet guard,
And on the towers keep watch and ward:
The residue myself obey,
And follow where I point the way.'
Forth from the city, one and all,
They rush, and hurry to the wall:
Latinus, bowed with grief, adjourns
The council and its high concerns,
And oft himself he blames,
Who gave not to his daughter fair
A husband, to the state an heir,
Nor owned the Trojan's claims.
Before the gates some trenches make,
Or load their backs with stone and stake:
The trump peals shrill and clear:
Matrons and boys enring the wall
In close array: the last dread call
Resounds in every ear.
Now up to Pallas' rock-built fane
The queen amid a matron train
Is borne in stately car;
With her Lavinia, maiden chaste,
Her lovely eyes to earth abased,
Fair author of the war.
Beneath the dome the matrons crowd,
And bid the incense smoke,