XLVIII. "Or, if fame tempt, and in thy bosom glow
Such fire, and so thou hankerest to gain
A kingdom's dower, take heart and face the foe.
Must we, poor souls, that Turnus may obtain
A royal bride, like carrion strew the plain,
Unwept, unburied? If thine arm hath might,
If but a spark of native worth remain,
Go forth this hour; in arms assert thy right,		424
And meet him, face to face, who calls thee to the fight."
XLIX. Fierce blazed the wrath of Turnus, and he wrung
Speech from his breast, deep groaning in his gall.
"Glib art thou, Drances, voluble of tongue,
When hands are needed, and the trumpets call.
The council summoned, thou art first of all.
Not this the hour thy vapouring to outpour,
Though big thy talk, and brave the words, that fall
From craven lips, while ramparts stand before,		433
To guard thee safe from foes, nor trenches swim with gore.
L. "Rave on, and thunder in thy wonted strain,
And brand me coward, thou whose hands can slay
Such Trojan hosts, whose trophies grace the plain.
What worth can do, and manhood can essay,
We twain may venture. Sooth, not far away
Need foes be sought; around the walls they throng.
March we to meet them! Dotard, why delay?
Still dwells thy War-God in a windy tongue,		442
And flying feet, and knees all feeble and unstrung?
LI. "I beaten? Who, foul spawn of earth, shall call
Me beaten? who, that saw swoln Tiber flow
Red with the blood of Trojans, ay, and all
Evander's house and progeny laid low,
And fierce Arcadians vanquished at a blow?
Not such dead Pandarus and Bitias found
This right hand, nor those thousands hurled below
In one short day, when battlement and mound		451
Hemmed me in hostile walls, and foemen swarmed around.

LII. "No hope from war?—Go, fool, to Dardan ears
These bodings whisper, to thy new ally.
Go, swell the panic, spread the coward's fears.
Puff up the foemen's prowess to the sky,—
Twice-conquered churls,—and Latin arms decry.
See now, forsooth, the [Myrmidons] afraid
Of Phrygian arms, [Tydides] fain to fly,
Achilles trembling, [Aufidus] in dread		460
Shrunk from the Hadrian deep, and cowering in his bed.
LIII. "Or mark the trickster's cunning when he feigns
To fear my vengeance, whom his taunts revile!
Nay, Drances, be at ease; this hand disdains
To take the forfeit of a soul so vile.
Keep it, fit inmate of that breast of guile,
And now, good Sire, if, beaten, we despair,
If never Fate on Latin arms shall smile,
And naught our ruined fortunes can repair,		469
Stretch we our craven hands, and beg the foe to spare.
LIV. "Yet oh! if aught of ancient worth remain,
Him deem I noblest, and his end renowned,
Brave soul! who sooner than behold such stain,
Fell once for all, and, dying, bit the ground.
But, if fit men and martial means abound,
And towns and tribes, to muster at our call,
Hath Italy; if Trojans, too, have found
Fame dearly bought with many a brave man's fall		478
(For they have, too, their deaths; the storm hath swept o'er all),
LV. "Why fail we on the threshold, faint with fears,
And sick knees tremble ere the trumpets bray?
Time—healing Time—and long, laborious years
Oft raise the humble; Fortune in her play
Lifts those to-morrow, whom she lowers to-day.
What though no aid Ætolian Arpi lends,
Ours is Messapus, ours Tolumnius, yea,
And all whom Latium or Laurentum sends,		487
Nor scanty fame, nor slow Italia's hosts attends.
LVI. "Ours, too, is brave Camilla, noble maid,
The pride of Volscians, and she leads a band
Of horsemen fierce, in brazen arms arrayed.
If me the foe to single fight demand,
And so ye will, and I alone withstand
The common good, come danger as it may,
Not so hath victory fled this hated hand,
Not yet so weak is Turnus, as to stay		496
With such a prize unsnatched, and falter from the fray.