Even then she launched with tiny hand her childish missiles, swung round her head the sling’s well-turned thong, and brought down a crane from Strymon 15 or a snow-white swan. Many a mother in Tyrrhene town has wooed her for her son in vain: with no thought but for Dian, she cherishes in unsullied purity her love for the hunter’s and the maiden’s life. Would she had never been pressed for warfare like this, essaying to strike a blow 20 at the Teucrians: so had she still been my darling and a sister of my train. But come, since cruel destiny is darkening round her, glide down, fair nymph, from the sky, and repair to the Latian frontier, where now in an evil hour the tearful battle is joining. Take these arms, and draw 25 from the quiver an avenging shaft: therewith let the foe, whoever he be, Trojan or Italian, that shall profane with the stroke of death that sacred person, make to me in like manner the atonement of his blood. Afterwards in the hollow of a cloud I will bear off the body of my lost favourite 30 undespoiled of its arms, and lay her down in her own land.” Thus she: and Opis hurtled downward through the buoyant air, a black whirlwind enswathing her form. But the Trojan band meanwhile is nearing the walls with the Etruscan chiefs and the whole array of cavalry, 35 marshalled into companies. Steeds are prancing and neighing the whole champaign over, and chafing against the drawn bridle as they face hither and thither: the field, all iron, bristles far and wide with spears, and the plains are ablaze with arms reared on high. Likewise Messapus on the other side and the swift-paced Latians, and Coras and his brother, and maid Camilla’s force appear in the plain against them, couching the lance in their backdrawn 5 hands and brandishing the javelin: and the onset of warriors and the neighing of steeds begin to wax hot. And now each army had halted within a spear-throw of the other: with a sudden shout they dash forward, and put spurs to their fiery steeds: missiles are showered from all 10 sides in a moment, thick as snow-flakes, and heaven is curtained with the shade. Instantly Tyrrhenus and fierce Aconteus charge each other spear in hand, and foremost of all crash together with sound as of thunder, so that the chest of either steed is burst against his fellow’s; Aconteus, 15 flung off like the levinbolt or a stone hurled from an engine, tumbles headlong in the distance, and scatters his life in air. At once the line of battle is broken, and the Latians, turned to flight, sling their shields behind them and set their horses’ heads cityward. The Trojans give them 20 chase: Asilas in the van leads their bands. And now they were nearing the gates, when the Latians in turn set up a shout, and turn their chargers’ limber necks; the