Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/449

'Not human help, nor sovereign art,
Nor old Iapis healed that smart:
'Tis Heaven that interferes, to save
For greater deeds the strength it gave.'
The chief, impatient of delays,
His legs in pliant gold arrays,
And to and fro his javelin sways.
And now, his corslet round his breast,
In his mailed arms his child he pressed,
Kissed through his helm, and thus addressed:
'Learn of your father to be great,
Of others to be fortunate.
This hand awhile shall be your shield
And lead you safe from field to field:
When grown yourself to manhood's prime,
Remember those of former time,
Recall each venerable name,
And catch heroic fire
From Hector's and Æneas' fame,
Your uncle and your sire.'

So speaking, from the camp he passed,
A godlike chief, of stature vast,
Shaking his ashen beam:
Mnestheus and Antheus and their train
With kindred speed o'er all the plain
From trench and rampart stream.
Thick blinding dust the champaign fills,
And earth with trampling throbs and thrills.
Pale Turnus saw them from the height;
The Ausonians saw, and chilly fright
Through all their senses ran:
Foremost of all the Latian crew
Juturna heard the sound and knew,
And left the battle's van.
Onward he flies, and whirls along
Through the wide plain his blackening throng.