prize is at stake, no guerdon of a game: the contest is
for Turnus’ life, for his very heart’s blood. It chanced
that there had stood there a wild olive with its bitter
leaves, sacred to Faunus, a tree in old days reverenced by
seamen, where when saved from ocean they used to fasten
their offerings to the Laurentian god and hang up their 5
votive garments: but the unrespecting Trojans had lately
lopped the hallowed trunk, that the lists might be clear
for combat. There was lodged Æneas’ spear: thither its
force had carried it, and was now holding it fast in the