as she saw her son far retired in the vale in the privacy of
the cool stream, she thus accosted him, appearing suddenly
before him: “See, here is the present completed by my
lord’s promised skill: now you will not need to hesitate 10
to-morrow about daring to the combat the haughty
Laurentians or fiery Turnus’ self.” So said the lady of
Cythera, and sought her son’s embrace: the arms she set
up to glitter under an oak that faced his view. He,
exulting in the goddess’ gifts, and charmed with their 15
dazzling beauty, cannot feast his eyes enough as he rolls