IX
So Aulus was Dictator,
The man of seventy fights
He made Aebutius Elva 135
His Master of the Knights.
On the third morn thereafter,
At dawning of the day,
Did Aulus and Aebutius
Set forth with their array. 140
Sempronius Atratinus
Was left in charge at home
With boys, and with grey-headed men,
To keep the walls of Rome.
Hard by the Lake Regillus 145
Our camp was pitched at night:
Eastward a mile the Latines lay,
Under the Porcian height.
Far over hill and valley
Their mighty host was spread; 150
And with their thousand watch-fires
The midnight sky was red.
[The names of the towns which contributed to the Latin army of threescore thousand men, and their order of battle. All Latium was there to fight with Rome.]
Up rose the golden morning
Over the Porcian height,
The proud Ides of Quintilis 155
Marked evermore with white.
Not without; secret trouble
Our bravest saw the foes;
For girt by threescore thousand spears
The thirty standards rose. 160
From every warlike city
That boasts the Latian name,
Foredoomed to dogs and vultures,
That gallant army came;
From Sofia's purple vineyards, 165
From Norba's ancient wall,
From the white streets of Tusculum,
The proudest town of all;
From where the Witch's Fortress[29]
O'erhangs the dark-blue seas; 170
From the still glassy lake that sleeps
Beneath Aricia's trees—
Those trees in whose dim shadow
The ghastly priest[30] doth reign,
The priest who slew the slayer, 175
And shall himself be slain;
From the drear banks of Ufens,[31]
Where nights of marsh-fowl play,
And buffaloes lie wallowing
Through the hot summer's day, 180
From the gigantic watch-towers,
No work of earthly men,
Whence Cora's sentinels o'erlook
The never-ending fen;
From the Laurentian[32] jungle, 185
The wild hog's reedy home;
From the green steeps whence Anio leaps
In floods of snow-white foam.
XI
Aricia, Cora, Norba,
Velitrae, with the might; 190
Of Setia and of Tusculum,
Were marshalled on the right:
The leader was Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name,
Upon his head a helmet 195
Of red gold shone like flame:
High on a gallant charger
Of dark-grey hue he rode:
Over his gilded armour
A vest of purple flowed, 200
Woven in the land of sunrise
By Syria's dark-browed daughters,
And by the sails of Carthage[33] brought
Far o'er the southern waters.
XII
Lavinium and Laurentum 205
Had on the left their post,
With all the banners of the marsh,
And banners of the coast.
Their leader was false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame: 210
With restless pace and haggard face
To his last field he came.
Men said he saw strange visions
Which none beside might see,
And that strange sounds were in his ears 215
Which none might hear but he.
A woman[34] fair and stately,
But pale as are the dead,
Oft through the watches of the night
Sat spinning by his bed. 220
And as she plied the distaff,
In a sweet voice and low,
She sang of great old houses,
And fights fought long ago.
So spun she, and so sang she, 225
Until the east was grey,
Then pointed to her bleeding breast,
And shrieked, and fled away.
XIII
But in the centre thickest
Were ranged the shields of foes, 230
And from the centre loudest
The cry of battle rose.
There Tibur[35] marched and Pedum
Beneath proud Tarquin's rule,
And Ferentinum of the rock, 235
And Gabii of the pool.
There rode the Volscian succours:
There, in a dark stern ring,
The Roman exiles gathered close,
Around the ancient king. 240
Though white as Mount Soracte,[36]
When winter nights are long,
His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt,
His heart and hand were strong:
Under his hoary eyebrows 245
Still flashed forth quenchless rage,
And, if the lance shook in his gripe,
'Twas more with hate than age.
Close at his side was Titus
On an Apulian[37] steed, 250
Titus, the youngest Tarquin,
Too good for such a breed.