But found advice, proceeding from a heart
Sincerely yours, and free from fraudful art.
The gods, by figns, have manifeftly shown,
No prince, Italian born, should heir my throne:
Oft have our augurs, in prediction skill'd,
And oft our priests, a foreign fon reveal'd.
Yet, won by worth, that cannot be withstood,
"Brib'd by my kindness to my kindred blood,
Urg'd by my wife, who would not be deny'd,
I promis'd my Lavinia for bride:
Her from her plighted lord by force I took ;
All ties of treaties and of honour broke:

your

On your account I wag'd an impious war,

With what fuccefs 'tis needless to declare;

¡ I and my subjects feel; and you have had your share. Twice vanquish'd, while in bloody fields we ftrive, : Scarce in our walls we keep our hopes alive : The rolling flood runs warm with human gore; The bones of Latians glance the neighbouring shore : 60 Why put I not an end to this debate,

: Still unrefolv'd, and still a slave to fate?

If Turnus' death a lafting peace can give,
it whilft live?
Why should not I
Should I to doubtful arms your youth betray,

procure

you

What would my kinfmen, the Rutulians, say?
And fhould you fall in fight, (which heaven defend)
How curfe the cause, which haften'd to his end,
The daughter's lover, and the father's friend?
mind the various chance of war,
Weigh in your
Pity your parent's age, and cafe his care.

I

$65

70

Suck

Such balmy words he pour'd, but all in vain;
The proffer'd medicine, but provok'd the pain.
The wrathful youth, difdaining the relief,
With intermitting fobs, thus vents his grief:
Thy care, O beft of fathers, which you
take
For my concerns, at my defire forfake.
Permit me not to languish out my days;

75

But make the best exchange of life for praise.
This arm, this lance, can well difpute the prize; 80
And the blood follows, where the weapon flies:

His goddess mother is not near, to shrowd

The flying coward with an empty cloud.

But now the queen, who fear'd for Turnus' life,
And loath'd the hard conditions of the ftrife,
Held him by force; and, dying in his death,
In these fad accents gave her forrow breath:
O Turnus, I adjure thee by these tears;
And whate'er price Amata's honour bears
Within thy breaft, fince thou art all my hope,
My fickly mind's repofe, my finking age's prop;
Since on the fafety of thy life alone
Depends Latinus, and the Latian throne :
Refufe me not this one, this only prayer,
To waive the combat, and pursue the war.
Whatever chance atttends this fatal ftrife,
Think it includes in thine Amata's life.
I cannot live a flave; or see my throne
Ufurp'd by strangers, or a Trojan fon.

At this a flood of tears Lavinia shed;

A crimson blush her beauteous face o'erspread,
Varying her cheeks by turns with white and red.
VOL. VII.

E

100

85

99

95,

The

The driving colours, never at a stay,

Run here and there; and flufh, and fade away.
Delightful change! thus Indian ivory shows, 105
Which, with the bordering paint of purple glows;
Or lilies damafk'd by the neighbouring rofe.
The lover gaz'd, and, burning with defire,
The more he look'd, the more he fed the fire:
Revenge, and jealous rage, and secret spight,
Roll in his breaft, and rouze him to the fight.
Then fixing on the queen his ardent eyes,
Firm to his firft intent, he thus replies :
O, mother, do not, by your tears, prepare
Such boding omens, and prejudge the war.
Refolv'd on fight, I am no longer free
To fhun my death, if heaven my death decree.
Then, turning to the herald, thus pursues;
Go, greet the Trojan with ungrateful news.
Denounce from me, that when to-morrow's light
Shall gild the heavens, he need not urge the fight:
The Trojan and Rutulian troops.no more
Shall dye, with mutual blood, the Latian fhore :
Our fingle swords the quarrel fhall decide,
And to the victor be the beauteous bride.

He said, and ftriding on, with speedy pace
He fought his courfers of the Thracian race.

115

120

125

At his approach, they tofs their heads on high;
And, proudly neighing, promise victory.

The fires of these Orithia fent from far,

130

To grace Pilumnus, when he went to war.

The

The drifts of Tracian fnows were fcarce fo white, Nor northern winds in flectness match'd their flight. Officious grooms ftand ready by his fide;

And fome with combs their flowing manes divide; And others ftroke their chests, and gently footh their pride.

He fheath'd his limbs in arms; a temper'd mafs
Of golden metal those, and mountain brass.
Then to his head his glittering helm he ty'd;
And girt his faithful fauchion by his fide.
In his Ætnean forge, the god of fire

That fauchion labour'd for the hero's fire:
Immortal keennefs on the blade bestow'd,
And plung'd it hiffing in the Stygian flood.
Prop'd on a pillar, which the cieling bore,
Was plac'd the lance Auruncan Actor wore;
Which with fuch force he brandifh'd in his hand,
Thy tough afh trembled like an ofier wand.
Then cry'd, O ponderous spoil of Actor slain,
And never yet by Turnus tofs'd in vain,
Fail not, this day, thy wonted force: but go,
Sent by this hand, to pierce the Trojan foe :
Give me to tear his corflet from his breast,

140

145

150

And from that eunuch head, to rend the crest:
Drag'd in the duft, his frizzled hair to foil,

155

Hot from the vexing ir'n, and smear'd with fragrant oil. Thus while he raves, from his wide noftrils flies

A fiery steam, and sparkles from his eyes.
So fares the bull in his lov'd female's fight;
Proudly he bellows, and preludes the fight:-

160

He tries his goring horns against a tree;

And meditates his abfent enemy:

He pushes at the winds, he digs the strand

With his black hoofs, and fpurns the yellow fand.

Nor lefs the Trojan, in his Lemnian arms,
To future fight his manly courage warms :
He whets his fury, and with joy prepares
To terminate at once the lingering wars.
To chear his chiefs, and tender fon, relates

165

What heaven had promis'd, and expounds the fates. 170
Then to the Latian king he sends, to cease
The rage of arms, and ratify the peace.

175

The morn, enfuing from the mountain's height,
Had fcarcely spread the skies with rofy light;
Th' ethereal courfers, bounding from the fea,
From out their flaming noftrils breath'd the day:
When now the Trojan and Rutulian guard,
In friendly labour join'd, the lift prepar'd.
Beneath the walls, they meafure out the space; 179
Then facred altars rear, on fods of grafs;
Where, with religious rites, their common gods they
place.

In pureft white the priests their heads attire,
And living waters bear, and holy fire:
And o'er their linen hoods, and fhaded hair,
Long twisted wreaths of facred vervain wear.
In order iffuing from the town appears
The Latin legion, arm'd with pointed fpears;
And from the fields, advancing on a line,
The Trojan and the Tufcan forces join:

185

2

Their