maiden, stretch forth thy hand and break the spear of the
Phrygian freebooter, lay him prostrate on the ground,
and leave him to grovel under our lofty portals.” Turnus
with emulous fury arms himself for the battle. And now
he has donned his ruddy corslet, and is bristling with 35
brazen scales; his calves have been sheathed in gold, his
temples yet bare, and his sword had been girded to his
side, and he shines as he runs all golden from the steep
of the citadel, bounding high with courage, and in hope
already forestalls the foe: even as when a horse, bursting