standing on the walls, following with their eyes the cloud 25
of dust and the gleam of the brass-clad companies. They
in their armour are moving through the underwood, their
eye on the nearest path: hark! a shout mounts up, a
column is formed, and the four-foot beat of the hoof shakes
the crumbling plain. Near the cool stream of Cære stands 30
a vast grove, clothed by hereditary reverence with wide-spread
sanctity; on all sides it is shut in by the hollows
of hills, which encompass its dark pine-wood shades.
Rumour says that the old Pelasgians dedicated it to Silvanus,