My Pallas will go with you, my hope and comfort. You are the one to teach him a soldier’s duty, How to endure; let him learn from you in action, Behold your deeds, and, in his youth, admire them. I will give two hundred horsemen, young Arcadians, The flower of our manhood; and two hundred Will go with you besides in the name of Pallas.” Aeneas and Achates, listening, brooded With downcast gaze, in troubled speculation Prolonging bitter thoughts, but Venus gave them A sign from the bright heaven: a flash of thunder Came from the cloudless sky, a blare of trumpets, And all things suddenly shaken. They looked up swiftly; Again, again, they heard the roar and rumble, They saw arms redden in the clear of heaven, Listened to thunder in cloud. And some were frightened; Not so the Trojan: he knew his mother’s promise. “Ask not, O friend, the meaning of the portent,” He cried, “Olympus summons me; I know it. This was the sign my goddess-mother promised When war was near; she would bring me arms from Vulcan, She said, to help us all. Alas! what slaughter Waits for the Latins now! How costly, Turnus, The price that must be paid me! Shields and helmets And bodies of brave men, swept under Tiber. Now let them call for battle, and break treaties!” He rose and at his quickening the altars Blazed into sudden fire; he paid his honors To Hercules, to all the gods of household, And all made sacrifice, sheep duly chosen. Aeneas sought, once more, his ships, his comrades, Chose, to attend him, those most brave in battle, Despatched the rest down stream again with tidings To take Ascanius of his father’s fortunes. Horses are brought for all the Trojan leaders, And for Aeneas the best, a charger, golden With lion-skin caparison, claws gilded.