And so Aeneas Made solemn pledge, and after him Latinus, Lifting his eyes to heaven, and outstretching His right hand to the stars, confirmed the treaty:-- “By these same Powers I swear, Aeneas, by Earth, Sea, Stars, Latona’s offspring, two-faced Janus, The power of the world below, and Pluto’s altars; May the Almighty Father, who sanctions treaties With lightning, hear my words: I touch the altars, I call these fires and presences to witness: No day shall break this peace, this pact, Italians, However things befall; no force shall turn me From this intention, not if the force of deluge Confounded land and water, Heaven and Hell. Even as this sceptre” (and he gestured with it) “Shall never bloom with leaf in branch or shadow, Once it has left its forest-trunk, its mother, And lost to steel its foliage, a tree No more, when once the artist’s hand has edged it With proper bronze, for Latin sires to carry.” So they affirmed the covenant, in sight Of leaders and people, and duly, over the flame, Made sacrifice of victims, and tore out The entrails while the beasts yet lived, and loaded The altars high with offerings. But more and more Rutulian hearts were wavering; the fight Began to seem unequal, and they stirred, Shifted and doubted. And Turnus moved them strangely, Coming on silent footstep to the altar, Looking down humbly, with a meek devotion, Cheeks drawn and pale. Juturna heard the whispers, The muttered talk, and sensed the stir in the crowd, And suddenly plunged into their midst, disguised As Camers, noble in birth and brave in arms, and son Of a brave father. She knew what she was doing, Putting the fuel of rumor on the fire, And crying:--“Are you not ashamed, Rutulians, That one should be exposed for all this army? In strength, in numbers, are we not their equal? Here they all are, the Trojans, the Arcadians, The Etruscans, all the lot of them: and we Are almost twice as many; man to man, Two against one! But no: we are willing to let him Rise to the skies on deathless praise; the gods Receive him, by his own decision bound, An offering at their altars, and we sit here Sluggish as stone on ground, our country lost, Ready to bow to any arrogant master.” They are moved; at least the young are, and a murmur Runs through the ranks: the Latins and Laurentians Are ripe for change. Rest from the war, and safety Count less than arms. They want the treaty broken, They pity Turnus. It’s not fair, this bargain. And now Juturna adds a greater warning, A sign from heaven, and nothing could have stirred them With more immediate impetus to folly. For, flying through the sky, an eagle, orange In the red light, was bearing down, pursuing