VII. Then he, scarce gathering utterance, spake again, "Good Sire, thy trouble for my sake forego; Leave me the price of glory--to be slain. I too can hurl, nor feeble is my blow, The whistling shaft, that lays the foeman low, And drinks his life-blood. Vain shall be his prayer. No goddess mother shall be there, to throw Her mist around him, with a woman's care, And screen her darling son with empty shades of air." VIII. The Queen, with death before her, filled with fears, Wept sore and checked the fiery suitor's way. "O Turnus! if thou heed'st me, by these tears;-- Hope of my age, Latinus' strength and stay, Prop of our falling house! one boon I pray; Forbear the fight. What fate awaiteth thee, Awaits me too. If Trojans win the day, With thee I'll leave the loathed light, nor see AEneas wed my child, a captive slave, as she." IX. With tears Lavinia heard her mother speak. A crimson blush her glowing face o'erspread, And hot fires kindled on her burning cheek. As Indian ivory, when stained with red, Or lilies, mixt with roses in a bed, So flushed the maid, with varying thoughts distrest. He, wild with love, upon Lavinia fed His constant gaze, but maddening with unrest, Burned for the fight still more, and thus the Queen addressed: X. "Vex me not, mother, marching to the fray, With these thy tears and bodings of despair. 'Tis not in me the fatal hour to stay. Thou, Idmon, to the Phrygian tyrant bear The unwelcome word: to-morrow let him spare To lead his Teucrians to the fight. Each side Shall rest awhile; when morning shines in air, His blood or mine the quarrel shall decide, And he or I shall win, whose prowess earns, the bride." XI. Thus speaking, to his home the chieftain hies And bids his steeds be harnessed for the fight: Soon for the pleasure of their master's eyes They stand before him, neighing in their might. In days of old from Orithyia bright To King Pilumnus came those coursers twain, Swifter than breezes and than snow more white; His ready grooms attend, a nimble train, And clap the sounding breast and comb the abundant mane. XII. Himself the shining corselet, stiff with gold And orichalcum, on his shoulders laid. His sword and shield he fitted to his hold, And donned the helm, with crimson plumes arrayed, The sword the Fire-King for his sire had made, And dipped still glowing in the Stygian flood, Last, the strong spear-beam in his hand he swayed (Against a pillar in the house it stood), Auruncan Actor's spoils, and shook the quivering wood,