And it so happened from the realm of sky Long-haired Apollo, throned with cloud, looked down And saw the Ausonian battle-lines and city, And had a word of blessing for Iulus:-- “Good for your prowess, youngster! That’s the way To reach the stars, a son of gods, a father Of gods to be. In time the wars will end Under that royal line. Troy sets you free For greater destinies.” And he left the heaven, Came through the stir of air, and sought Iulus, Disguised as ancient Butes, armor-bearer, Once, to Anchises, a guardian at his threshold, Later Ascanius’ servant. With his voice, His grizzled hair, his color, his sounding arms, Apollo came and spoke to the hot young warrior:-- “Let that be plenty, son of great Aeneas: Numanus slain and unavenged; your arrow Has done its work. Apollo grants this praise, Your first, and does not envy the little archer. But now, my son, refrain from war.” He vanished, Before the speech was ended, into thin air, And the Trojan captains knew the god, his weapons, The clang of the quiver of the god ascending, And at his will and order keep Ascanius Out of the fight for which he longs, themselves Go back to the work, charge at the jaws of danger. The loud cry runs from tower to tower, all down The avenue of the walls, and they bend the bows, And catapults hum as the great stone goes flying. The ground is sown with weapons; shield and helmet Ring with the clanging; the fight is a swell and a surge Like the rise of a wind from the west, with rainstorm pelting Hard on the ground, thicker than hail on ocean, When Jupiter lashes the gales and cloud-burst thunders from heaven. Two young men, tall as pine-trees, tall as hills That gave them birth, Alcanor’s sons, their mother The Oread Iaera, stood at the gate, Obeying orders, Pandarus and Bitias, And had their own idea, and flung it open, Relying on their arms, an invitation-- Here’s open house for all, come in, come in! To right and left they stood before the towers, Armed with the steel, and with the high plumes tossing, Like twin oaks towering by pleasant rivers. The Rutulians saw the entrance open, rushed in, Were beaten back: Haemon, the son of Mars, Tmarus the headstrong, Quercens, Aquicolus Handsome in arms, fled with their columns routed, Or perished in the gateway. And anger mounted In all those battling spirits: the Trojans gathered, Daring in closer combat now, and risking Brief sallies past the walls.