shields, and beaks torn from vessels. There, as in life,
was sitting, decked with Quirinal staff and robe of scanty
border, in his left hand the sacred shield, Picus, tamer of
the steed, he whom, in her bridal jealousy, Circe, by a stroke
of her golden rod and the witchery of her drugs, transformed 25
to a bird, and scattered spots over his wings. Such was
the temple where Latinus, seated on his ancestral throne,
summoned the Teucrians to his presence within, and on
their entry with placid mien bespoke them thus:—
“Tell me, sons of Dardanus—for we know your city and 30