So Turnus, hasting headlong to the town,
Shouldering and shoving, bore the squadrons down.
}
{ Still pressing onward, to the walls he drew,
{ Where shafts and spears and darts promiscuous flew,
{ And sanguine streams the slippery ground embrue.
First stretching out his arm, in sign of peace,
He cries aloud, to make the combat cease:—
"Rutulians, hold! and Latin troops, retire!
The fight is mine; and me the gods require.