their vows; fear treads on the heels of danger, and the
features of the war-god loom larger on the view. Then
Evander, clasping the hand of his departing son, hangs 25
about him with tears that never have their fill, and speaks
like this: “Ah! would but Jupiter bring back my bygone
years, and make me what I was when under Præneste’s
very walls I struck down the first rank and set a
conqueror’s torch to piles of shields, and with this my 30
hand sent down to Tartarus king Erulus, whom at his
birth his mother Feronia endowed with three lives—fearful