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Rh at the slaughter made by them amongst his sleeping comrades. The mother of Euryalus has heard the news, and sees the ghastly trophies from the ramparts. Iulus performs his promise, and the frantic woman is, under his personal directions, tenderly removed. He himself becomes the hero of the day. The archer's craft, his love of which had led to the feud with the Latins, is turned to good service in the defence of the camp. Numanus, a brother-in-law of Turnus, is loudly taunting the Trojans in front of their lines:—

Twice captured Phrygians! to be pent

Once more in leaguered battlement,

And plant unblushingly between

Yourselves and death a stony screen!

Lo, these the men that draw their swords

To part our ladies from their lords!

What god, what madness brings you here

To taste of our Italian cheer?

No proud Atridæ leads our vans:

No false Ulysses talks and plans:

E'en from the birth a hardy brood,

We take our infants to the flood,

And fortify their tender mould

With icy wave and ruthless cold.

Early and late our sturdy boys

Seek through the woods a hunter's joys:

Their pastime is to tame the steed,

To bend the bow and launch the reed.

Our youth, to scanty fare inured,

Made strong by labour oft endured,

Subdue the soil with spade and rake,

Or city walls with battle shake.

Through life we grasp our trusty spear:

It strikes the foe, it goads the steer: