See, there runs a messenger from end to end of the palace
amid wild confusion, and fills the town with a mighty 30
terror, how that in marching array the Trojans and the
Tuscan force are sweeping down from Tiber’s stream
over all the plain. In an instant the minds of the people
are confounded, their bosoms shaken to the core, their
passions goaded by no gentle stings. They clutch at arms, 35
clamour for arms: arms are the young men’s cry: the
weeping fathers moan and mutter. And now a mighty
din, blended of discordant voices, soars up to the skies,