LXXVI. "Now, since well-nigh the fatal threads are spun, Go, Nymph, to Latin frontiers wing thy way, Where evil omens mark the fight begun. Take, too, this quiver; who the maid shall slay,-- Trojan or Latin--with his blood shall pay Myself the armour and the corpse will bear, Wrapt in a cloud, and in her country lay." She spake, and, girt with whirlwind, and the blare Of sounding arms, the Nymph glides down the yielding air. LXXVII. Meanwhile, the Trojans and the Tuscan train, In marshalled squadrons, to the walls draw near, Steeds neigh, and chafe, and prance upon the plain, And lances bristling o'er the field appear. Messapus, too, and Latium's hosts are here, Coras, Catillus, and Camilla leads Her troops to aid. All couch the levelled spear, And whirl the dart. Hot waxes on the meads The tramp of hurrying hosts, the snorting of the steeds. LXXVIII. Each halts within a spear-cast of the foe, Then, spurring, forward with a shout they dash, And, darkening heaven, shower the darts like snow. In front, Tyrrhenus and Aconteus rash Cross spears, the first to grapple. With a crash, Steed against steed, went ruining. Breast and head Shocked and were shattered. Like the lightning's flash, And loud as missile from an engine sped, Hurled far, Aconteus falls, and with a gasp lies dead. LXXIX. This breaks the line; the Latins turn and fly, Their shields behind them. On the Trojans go, Asilas first. And now the gates are nigh; Once more, with shouts, the Latins face the foe; These, scared in turn, the slackened reins forego. So shifts the fight, as on the winding strand The swelling ocean, with alternate flow, Foams on the rocks, and curls along the sand, Now sucks the shingle back, and, ebbing, leaves the land. LXXX. Twice the fierce Tuscans, spurring o'er the fields, Drive the Rutulians to their walls in flight. Twice, driven backward, from behind their shields The victors see the rallying foes unite. But when the third time, in the fangs of fight, Man singling man, both armies met to close, Loud were the groans, and fearful was the sight, Arms splashed with gore, steeds, riders, friends and foes, Blent in the deadly broil, and fierce the din uprose. LXXXI. Lo, here, Orsilochus, too faint with fear To meet fierce Remulus, a distant dart Hurls at his steed. Beneath the charger's ear The shaft stands fixt; the beast, with sudden start, His breast erect, and maddened by the smart, Rears up, and flings his rider to the ground. Here brave Iolas, from his friends apart, Catillus slew; Herminius next he found, Large-hearted, large of limb, and eke in arms renowned.