as this sceptre”—for a sceptre chanced to be in his hand—“shall never more burgeon with light foliage into branch or shade, now that once cut down in the woods it is orphaned of that which gave it life, and has resigned to the axe its leaves and its sprays—once a tree, now the workman’s hand has cased it with seemly brass, and given it to be wielded by Latium’s elders.” With words like these 5 were they ratifying the treaty, all the nobles looking on. Then, as the rite ordains, they cut the throats of the hallowed’ victims into the fire, flay the yet breathing flesh, and pile the altars with laden chargers. But the Rutulians have long been thinking the combat 10 unequal: their bosoms are swayed by rival emotions, all the more, the nearer they observe the ill-matched champions. Turnus aids the feeling by the quietness of his step and the downcast reverential look which he turns on the altar, his wan cheeks, and the pallor of his youthful 15 frame. Soon as his sister Juturna heard such whispers spreading, and saw the hearts of the multitude wavering to and fro, she plunges among the ranks, taking the form of Camers, great in ancestral dignity, great in the name of his father’s worth, and himself a valiant warrior—plunges 20 among the ranks, knowing well what she would have, and scatters her sayings abroad in words like these: “Blush ye not, Rutulians, with souls such as yours, to make one a sacrifice for all? are we not equal to our foes in strength or in numbers? See, here is their whole army, Trojan 25 and Arcadian, aye, and that fated band of Eturia, which seeks Turnus’ life. Though but half of us should engage, each would scarce have an enemy to fight with. He, no doubt, will rise on the wings of fame to the gods for whose altars he gives himself to die, and will live in the mouths 30 of men: we, stripped of our country, shall be the slaves of haughty masters, we, I say, now seated passively on the ground.” By such words the flame is fanned more and more in those young warrior hearts, and murmurs run from rank to rank: not Rutulian alone, but Laurentian and 35 Latian are changed men. They who a short while since were hoping for their own repose and their state’s prosperity, now burn for arms, would have the treaty undone, and pity Turnus’ cruel fate. And now Juturna gives them one thing more, even a sign from heaven, no spell so potent to work on Italian minds and make them dupes of the marvel. Flying through the ruddy sky, Jove’s golden bird was chasing the river fowl, a winged noisy multitude, 5 when suddenly swooping on the water he carries off in his tyrant claws a stately swan. The Italians are all attention, when lo! the whole mass of birds face about with a scream, marvellous to see, their wings darkening the air,