XXVII. "Since once in forests, from its parent tree
Lopped clean away, the woodman stripped it bare
Of boughs and leaves, now fashioned, as ye see,
And cased in brass by cunning craftsman's care,
For fathers of the Latin realm to bear."
So they, amid their chiefest, Sire with Sire,
Confirm the league. These o'er the flames prepare
To slay the victims, and, as rites require,		235
The living entrails tear, and feed the sacred fire.
XXVIII. Long while unequal to Rutulian eyes
The combat seemed, and trouble tossed them sore,
Now more, beholding nearer, how in size
And strength the champions differed, yea, and more,
Beholding Turnus, as he moved before
The altars, sad and silently, and seeks
With downcast eyes Heaven's favour to implore,
The wanness of his youthful frame, that speaks		244
Of health and hope now fled, the pallor of his cheeks.

XXIX. Soon as Juturna saw the whispers grow
From tongue to tongue, and marked the changing tone,
The hearts of people wavering to and fro,
Amidst them,—now in form of [Camers] known,
Great Camers, sprung from grandsires of renown,
His father famed for many a brave emprise,
Himself as famed for exploits of his own,—
Amidst them, mistress of her part, she flies,		253
And scatters words of doubt, and many a dark surmise.
XXX. "Shame, will ye risk, Rutulians, for his host
The life of one? In number, strength and show
Do we not match them? Those are all they boast,
Trojans, Arcadians and Etruscans. Lo,
Fight we by turns, each scarce can find a foe.
He to his gods, whose shrines he dies to shield,
Will rise, and praised will be his name below.
We, reft of home, to tyrant lords shall yield,		262
And toil as slaves, who sit so slackly on the field."
XXXI. So saying, Juturna to the youths imparts
Fresh rage, and murmurs through the concourse run,
And changed are Latin and Laurentian hearts,
And they, who lately sought the strife to shun,
And longed for rest, now wish the league undone,
And, pitying Turnus, wrongly doomed to die,
Call out for arms. And now, her work begun,
Juturna shows a lying sign on high,		271
That shakes Italian hearts, and cheats the wondering eye.
XXXII. Jove's golden eagle through the crimson skies
In chase of clanging marsh-fowl, swooped in flight
Down on a swan, and trussed the noble prize.
The Latins gaze, when lo, a wondrous sight!
Back wheels the flock, and all with screams unite,
And darkening, as a cloud, in dense array
Press on the foe, till, overborne by might,
And yielding to sheer weight, he drops the prey		280
Into the stream below, and cloudward soars away.
XXXIII. With shouts the glad Rutulians hail the sign,
And lift their hands. Then spake the seer straightway,
Tolumnius: "Welcome, welcome, powers divine!
'Twas this—'twas this I longed for, day by day.
To arms! 'Tis I, Tolumnius, lead the way.
Poor souls! whom yon strange pirate would enslave,
Like feeble birds, and make your coast a prey.
He too shall fly, and vanish o'er the wave.		289
Stand close and fight as one, your captive king to save."
XXXIV. He spake and hurled his javelin at the foes,
Advancing. Shrill the cornel hissed, and flew
True to its quarry. Then a shout uprose,
And the ranks wavered, and hearts throbbed anew
With ardour, as the gathering tumult grew.
On went the missile to where, side by side,
Nine brethren stood, of comely form, whom, true
To her Gylippus, bare a Tuscan bride,		298
Nine tall Arcadian sons, in bloom of youthful pride.