king with garments rent, all confounded by his consort’s 30
death and his city’s ruin: he soils his hoary locks with
showers of unseemly dust, and oft and oft upbraids himself
that he embraced not sooner Æneas the Dardan nor
took him for son-in-law of his own free will.
Turnus, meantime, is plying the war far away on the 35
plain, following here and there a straggler with abated
zeal, himself and his steeds alike less buoyant. The air
wafted to him the confused din, inspiring unknown terror,
and on his quickened ears smote the sound of the city’s