Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/299

Rh No leader of Italian blood

May head so vast a multitude:

Choose ye a foreign chief.'

Scared by Heaven's voice, the Etruscan train

Sits down in arms in yonder plain.

An envoy, sent from Tarchon, brings

The sceptre of Etruria's kings,

And bids me join the camp, and wear

The crown, and be the kingdom's heir.

But envious age, for war too late,

Forbids Evander to be great.

My son perchance the host might lead,

But, born of Sabine mother's seed,

A half Italian he:

You, blest alike in age and race,

Assume, brave prince, the chieftain's place

O'er Troy and Italy.

Nay more, my hope, my only joy,

I give you too, my noble boy:

The martial lore of service stern

Beneath your conduct he shall learn,

With reverence on your actions gaze,

And tread your steps from earliest days.

Two hundred men, with each his steed,

I send with him, Arcadia's breed,

And Pallas from his own good store

Shall furnish forth two hundred more.'

He ended, and in musing mood

Æneas and Achates stood:

Dark thoughts came thick, when lo! from heaven

A sudden sign, by Venus given.

Swift runs athwart the sky's clear field

A thunder and a glare: