And envoys came From the Latin city, veiled with boughs of olive, Asking for truce: let him return the bodies Strewn by the sword across the battlefield, Let them be given burial. No war Is fought with vanquished men, deprived of light: Let him be merciful--had he not called them Hosts at one time, and fathers? And good Aeneas Granted, of right, the truce they sought, and added Brief words:--“What evil destiny, O Latins, Involved you in such tragic war, to flee us, Your friends that might have been? You ask for peace, Peace for the dead, slain by the lot of battle. Peace? I would gladly grant it to the living. I would not be here unless fate had given This place, this dwelling, and I wage no war Against your people, but your king deserted Our friendliness; he had more confidence In Turnus’ weapons. Turnus, in simple justice, Should be the one to face this death. If, truly, He seeks to end the war, to drive the Trojans By strength of hand from Italy, he should have Taken my personal challenge: one of us Would live, to whom his own right hand or heaven Had granted life. Go now, depart in peace, Kindle the death-fires for your luckless comrades.” He spoke, and they were silent: they had nothing That could be said; they could not face him, either, And kept their eyes and faces toward each other. And then old Drances, always bitter and hateful, Resentful of young Turnus, spoke in answer:-- “O great in glory, even greater in arms, Heroic Trojan, how can I ever praise you As highly as I should? Am I to wonder First at your justice or your warlike prowess? We shall be glad, indeed, to take these words Back to our native city and, fortune willing, Join you with king Latinus. As for Turnus, Let him seek his own alliances! Our pleasure Will be in building walls for you, as fate Ordains, that we should carry on our shoulders The masonry of Troy.” And they all cheered him. They pledged twelve days for peace, and in the forests Trojans and Latins walked as friends together, Over the ridges, peace among them. Ash-trees Rang as the two-edged axe bit deep; the pines, Star-towering, came down; the oak, the cedar, Split by the wedges, filled the groaning wagons.