Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/409

Rh Not all so weak these hands of mine

That I the combat should decline.

Nay, though Achilles' self be there

And Vulcan make him arms to wear,

I yet will meet him. Here I stand,

I, Turnus, like my fathers manned,

And pledge the life your needs require

To you and to my own wife's sire.

'Tis I the Phrygian claims to meet;

Pray Heaven the challenge he repeat,

Nor in my stead let Drances pay

His forfeit breath or win the day!'

Thus they in passionate debate

The weary hours prolong:

Æneas through the encampment's gate

Leads forth his armed throng.

A messenger comes hastening down

And fills the palace and the town

With tumult and dismay;

'The Trojan and the Tuscan train

From Tiber pour along the plain

In battle's stern array.'

A turmoil takes the public mind;

Their passions flame, by furious wind

To conflagration blown:

At once to arms they fain would fly:

'To arms!' the youth impatient cry:

The old men weep and moan.

A dissonance of various cries

Keeps swelling, soaring to the skies,

As when in lofty wood

Birds settle, lighting in a cloud,

Or swans make clangor hoarse and loud

Along Padusa's flood.