addresses Amata in brief: “Let me not have tears nor
aught so ominous, dear mother, as my escort to the iron
battle; Turnus is not free to postpone the call of death.
Go, Idmon, and bear the Phrygian despot a message that 15
will like him not: Soon as the goddess of to-morrow’s
dawn shall fire the sky with the glow of her chariot, let
him not spur the Teucrians against the Rutulians; let
Teucrian and Rutulian sheath their swords, while we
twain with our own life-blood decide the war. Let 20
Lavinia’s hand be sought and won in yonder field.”