all fear for the future: see here the spoils, the tyrant’s
first-fruits: see here Mezentius as my hands have made
him. Now our march is to the king and the walls of Latium.
Set the battle in array in your hearts and let hope
forestall the fray, that no delay may check your ignorance 20
at the moment when heaven gives leave to pluck up the
standards and lead forth our chivalry from the camp, no
coward resolve palsy your steps with fear. Meanwhile,
consign we to earth the unburied carcases of our friends,
that solitary honour which is held in account in the pit 25