just so the Rutulian scans wall and camp with kindling
wrath; grief fires the marrow of his iron bones—how to
essay an entrance? what way to dash the prisoned Trojans
from the rampart and fling them forth on level
ground? Close to the camp’s side was lying the fleet, 5
shored round by earthworks and by the river; this he
assails, calling for fire to his exulting mates, and filling his
hand with a blazing pine, himself all aglow. Driven on
by Turnus’ presence, they double their efforts: each soldier
of the band equips himself with his murky torch. See, 10