from the Dardans on their ramparts; the gleam of hope
quickens wrath to fury; they hurl a shower of javelins:
even as amid dark clouds cranes from Strymon give token,
sweeping sonorously over the sky, and flying from the
southern gale with sequacious clamour. But the Rutulian 10
king and the Ausonian generals wonder at the sight, till,
looking back, they behold the stems bearing to the shore,
and the whole water floating on with vessels. There is a
blaze on that helmet’s summit, and from the crest on
high streams the flame, and the shield’s golden boss disgorges 15