myrrh.” So he rages, fury-driven: sparks flash from the
furnace of his countenance, lightnings dart from his 5
fiery eyes; as when a bull in view of a fight raises fearful
bellowing, and calls up rage into his horns by butting against
a tree’s trunk, challenges the wind with his blows, and
spurns the flying sand in prelude for the fray.
With equal fierceness Æneas, clad in his mother’s 10
armour, sharpens valour’s edge, and lashes his heart with
wrath, joying that proffered truce should end the war.
Then he calms his comrades’ fear and the grief of Iulus,