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Rh Of these the first in martial might

He takes to follow him in fight:

The rest drop down the stream, to bear

Iulus tidings how they fare,

His father and the cause.

Each has his steed of all the train

That marches to the Tuscan plain:

A charger for the chief is led

With tawny lion's hide bespread

That shines with gilded claws.

Fame to the little town relates

The horse are marching to the gates.

The matrons with redoubled zeal

Make vows to Heaven in wild appeal:

Fear closer treads on danger's heel,

And larger looms the fray:

The tears roll down Evander's face,

He holds his child in strict embrace,

And thus begins to say:

'Ah! would but Jupiter restore

The strength I had in days of yore,

When conqueror in Præneste's fields

I fired a pile of foemen's shields,

And hurried with my own right hand

King Erulus to the darksome land:

Three lives inspired that monstrous frame

When from Feronia's womb he came:

Three swords he wielded 'gainst the foe:

Three deaths it cost to lay him low:

Yet thrice this hand shed out his gore,

And thrice stripped off the arms he wore.

Ah! never then should war's alarms

Dispart me from my darling's arms,

Nor had Mezentius done despite

So foully to a neighbour's right,

Or made my widowed city feel

The havoc of his ruthless steel.