The 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 the occasion takes, and cries aloud:—
"Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd: