Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/268

244 To Alba's cities thence it passed;

Now Rome, earth's mistress, holds it fast,

Whether 'gainst Thrace they turn their spears,

Or bring the Arab blood and tears,

Or, following on the daystar's track,

From Parthia claim the standards back.

Two gates there stand of War—'twas so

Our fathers named them long ago—

The war-god's terrors round them spread

All atmosphere of sacred dread:

A hundred bolts the entrance guard,

And Janus there keeps watch and ward.

These, when his peers on war decide,

The consul, all in antique pride

Of Gabine cincture deftly tied

And purple-striped attire,

With grating noise himself unbars,

And calls aloud on Father Mars:

The warrior train takes up the cry,

And horns with brazen symphony

Their hoarse assent conspire.

'Twas thus they bade the king proclaim

Fierce war against the Trojan name,

And ope the gates of doom:

The good old sire with hand and eye

Shrank from the hated ministry

And deeper plunged in gloom.

When lo! in person from above

Descends the imperial spouse of Jove,

Smote the barred gates, and backward rolled

On jarring hinge each bursten fold.

Ausonia, all inert before,

Takes fire and blazes to the core:

And some on foot their march essay,

Some, mounted, storm along the way;

To arms! cry one and all: