LXXIX. "Age cannot stale, nor creeping years impair Stout hearts as ours, nor make our strength decay. Our hoary heads the heavy helmet bear. Our joy is in the foray, day by day To reap fresh plunder, and to live by prey. Ye love to dance, and dally with the fair, In saffron robes with purple flounces gay. Your toil is ease, and indolence your care, And tunics hung with sleeves, and ribboned coifs ye wear. LXXX. "Go Phrygian women, for ye are not men! Hence, to your Dindymus, and roam her heights With Corybantian eunuchs! Get ye, then, And hear the flute, harsh-grating, that invites With twy-mouthed music to her lewd delights, Where boxen pipe and timbrel from afar Shriek forth the summons to her sacred rites. Put by the sword, poor dotards as ye are, Leave arms to men, like us, nor meddle with the war." LXXXI. Such taunts Ascanius brooked not. Stung with pride, A shaft he fitted to the horse-hair twine, And, turning, stood with outstretched arms, and cried: "Bless, Jove omnipotent, this bold design: Aid me, and yearly offerings shall be thine. A milk-white steer--I bind me to the vow-- Myself will lead, the choicest, to thy shrine, Tall as his mother, and with gilded brow, And butting horns, and hoofs, that spurn the sand e'en now." LXXXII. Jove heard, and leftward, where the sky was blue, Thundered aloud. At once the fateful bow Twanged; with a whirr the fateful arrow flew, And pierced the head of Remulus. "Now go, And teach thy proud tongue to insult a foe, And scoff at Trojan valour. _This_ reply Twice-captured Phrygians to thy taunts bestow." Ascanius spoke; the Teucrians with a cry, Press on, their joyous hearts uplifting to the sky. LXXXIII. Meanwhile, Apollo from his cloudy car The Ausonian host, and leaguered town descries, And calls the youthful conqueror from afar: "Hail to thy maiden prowess; yonder lies Thy path, brave boy, to glory and the skies. O sons of Gods, and sire of Gods to be, All wars shall cease beneath the race to rise From great Assaracus. Nor thine, nor thee Shall narrow Troy contain; so stands the Fate's decree." LXXXIV. He spake, and through the breathing air shot down, And sought Ascanius, now a god no more, But shaped like aged Butes, whilom known The servant of the Dardan king, who bore Anchises' shield, and waited at his door, Then left to guard Ascanius. Such in view Apollo seemed; such clanging arms he wore; Such were his hoary tresses, voice, and hue, And these his words, as near the fiery youth he drew: