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Rh I cannot view the unequal fight,

Nor see that shameful treaty plight.

Can sister nought for brother dare?

Take heart: perchance the gods may spare.'

She said: Juturna's tears 'gan flow,

And oft she smote her breast of snow.

'No time for tears' Saturnia cries:

'Haste—save your brother ere he dies:

Or stir again the war, and break

(Mine be the risk) the league they make.'

She ceased, and left her sore distraught,

With bleeding heart and wavering thought.

Now to the field the monarchs came,

Latinus, his majestic frame

In four-horse chariot borne;

Twelve gilded rays, memorial sign

Of the great Sun, his sire divine,

His kingly brows adorn:

Grasping two javelins as in war

Rides Turnus in his two-horse car:

Æneas leaves his rampired home,

First founder of the race of Rome,

Glorious in heavenly armour's pride,

With shield that beams like day;

And young Ascanius at his side,

Rome's other hope and stay.

Then to the hearth the white-robed priest

Brings two-year sheep all richly fleeced

And young of bristly swine;

They turn them to the radiant east,

With knives the victims' foreheads score,

Strew cakes of salted meal, and pour

The sacrificial wine.

Then thus with falchion's naked blade

Æneas supplication made: