Now at last the goddess of the dawn was sprinkling the
world with new-born light, as she rose from Tithonus’ 15
saffron couch: the sun had streamed in and all was revealed
by daybreak, when Turnus summons his men to
arms, himself sheathed in armour; each general musters
in battle array his brass-mailed bands, and, scattering
divers speeches, stings them to fury. Nay, more, on 20
uplifted spears, most piteous sight, they set up the heads,
and follow them with deafening shouts—the heads of
Euryalus and Nisus. Æneas’ sturdy family, on the rampart’s