But if their minds are bent on other borders, On any other nation, if they are able To leave our soil, let us build a navy for them, Twenty good ships of oak, more if they need them. We have the timber at the water’s edge; All they need tell us is what kind, how many, For us to give them workmen, bronze, and dockyards. A hundred spokesmen from the noblest Latins Should go with boughs of olive, bearing presents, Talents of gold and ivory, the robe, The throne, of state, symbols of our dominion. Consult together; help our weary fortunes.” Then Drances, hostile still, whom Turnus’ glory Goaded with envy’s bitter sting, arose, A man of wealth, better than good with his tongue; If not so fierce in war, no fool in council, A trouble-maker, though; his mother was noble, His father no-one much. He spoke in anger:-- “Good king, you ask our guidance in a matter Obscure to none, needing no word of ours. All know, admit they know, what fortune orders, Yet mutter rather than speak. Let him abate That bluster of his, through whose disastrous ways Evil has come upon us, and bad omens. I will speak out, however much he threaten. Let us have freedom to speak frankly. Mourning Has settled on the town, the light of the leaders Dies out in darkness, while that confident hero, Confident, but in flight, attacks the Trojans And frightens heaven with arms. To all these gifts Promised and sent the Trojans, add, O king, One more: let no one’s violence dissuade you From giving your daughter in a worthy marriage, An everlasting covenant between us. But if such terror holds our hearts, then let us Beseech this prince, sue for his royal favor, Let him give up his claim, for king and country. Why, Turnus, fountain-head of all our troubles Consign us, wretches that we are, to danger Open and often? In war there is no safety. Turnus, we ask for peace, and, to confirm it, The only proper pledge. You know I hate you, Make no mistake in that regard. But still, I, first of all, implore you, pity your people! Put off that pride: give in, give up, and leave us! We have seen enough of death and desolation. If glory moves you, you with the heart of oak, Or if the royal dowry is your passion, Be bold, have confidence,--and face Aeneas! So Turnus have his royal bride, no matter If we, cheap souls, a herd unwept, unburied, Lie strewn across the field. O son of Mars, If son you really are, the challenger Is calling: dare you look him in the face?”