But Venus had come in her divine beauty through the 5 dark clouds of heaven with the gifts in her hand, and soon as she saw her son far retired in the vale in the privacy of the cool stream, she thus accosted him, appearing suddenly before him: “See, here is the present completed by my lord’s promised skill: now you will not need to hesitate 10 to-morrow about daring to the combat the haughty Laurentians or fiery Turnus’ self.” So said the lady of Cythera, and sought her son’s embrace: the arms she set up to glitter under an oak that faced his view. He, exulting in the goddess’ gifts, and charmed with their 15 dazzling beauty, cannot feast his eyes enough as he rolls them from point to point, admiring and turning over in his hands and arms the helmet with its dread crest, vomiting flame, the fateful sword, the stiff brazen corslet, blood-red and huge, in hue as when a dark cloud kindles with 20 sunlight and gleams afar; the polished cuishes,[258] too, of electrum and gold smelted oft and oft, and the spear, and the shield’s ineffable frame-work. On this was the story of Italy and the triumphs of the Romans wrought by the Lord of the fire; no stranger he to prophecy nor 25 ignorant of the time to come: on it was the whole royal line of the future from Ascanius onward, and their foughten fields in long succession. There, too, he had portrayed the mother-wolf stretched in Mars’ green cavern; around her teats were the twin boys in play climbing and clinging, 30 and licking their dam without dread; while she, her lithe neck bent back, was caressing them by turns and with her tongue shaping their young limbs. Near this he had inserted Rome and the lawless rape of the Sabine maidens amid the crowded circus, while the great games were in 35 course, and the sudden rise of a new war between the sons of Romulus and ancient Tatius with his austere Cures. Afterwards were seen the two kings, the conflict set at rest, standing in arms before the altar of Jove with goblets in their hands and cementing a treaty with swine’s blood. Not far off Mettus had already been torn asunder by the chariots driven apart—ah! false Alban, were you but a keeper of your word!—and Tullus was dragging the 5 traitor’s flesh through the woodland, while the bushes were sprinkled with the bloody rain. There, too, was Porsenna insisting that exiled Tarquin should be taken back and leaguering the city with a mighty siege: Æneas’ sons were flinging themselves on the sword in freedom’s cause. In 10 his face might be seen the likeness of wrath, and the likeness of menace, that Cocles[259] should have the courage to tear down the bridge, that Cloelia should break her prison and swim the river. There was Manlius standing