LXXIII. Mnestheus, Sergestus and Serestus strong He calls, and on a hillock takes his stand. There, mustering round him, all the Teucrians throng, Each armed with buckler, and his spear in hand, And from the mound he thus exhorts the band: "Hear, sons of Teucer, and let none be slack. Jove fights for us, so hearken my command. Though strange the venture, sudden the attack, Let none for that cause faint, none loiter and hang back. LXXIV. "This town--unless they yield them and obey-- This town, the centre of Latinus' reign, The cause of war, will I uproot this day, And raze her smoking roof-tops to the plain. What! shall I wait, and wait, till Turnus deign To take fresh heart, and tempt the war's rough game, And, conquered, face his conqueror again? See there the fount of all this blood! For shame; Bring quick the torch; let fire the perjured pact reclaim!" LXXV. So spake he, and one purpose nerves them all. They form a wedge, and forward with a cheer The close-knit column charges at the wall. Here scaling ladders in a trice they rear, And firebrands suddenly and flames appear. These seek the gates, and lay the foremost dead; Those flash the sword, or shake the shining spear. Darts cloud the skies. AEneas, at their head, Stands by the lofty walls, and with his hands outspread, LXXVI. Upbraids aloud Latinus, twice untrue, And bids heaven witness and his wrongs regard, Thus forced reluctant to the fight anew; How loth again with Latin foes he warred, How twice the truce the Latin crimes had marred. Upsprings wild discord in the town; some call To cede the city, and have the gates unbarred, And drag the aged monarch to the wall; Some rush to arms, and strive their entrance to forestall. LXXVII. As when within a crannied rock some hind, Returning home, a swarm of bees hath found, And all the nest with bitter smoke doth blind: They, in their waxen citadel fast bound, Post to and fro, the narrow cells around, And whet their stings in fury and despair: With stifled hum the caverned crags resound, The black fumes search the windings of their lair, And the dark smoke rolls up, and mingles with the air. LXXVIII. A new mischance now smote with further woe The Latin town, and fainting hearts dismayed. As queen Amata sees the coming foe, The ramparts stormed, their flames the roofs invade, And nowhere Turnus nor his troops to aid, Him dead she deems, herself the cause declares, Herself alone she spares not to upbraid. She wails,--she raves,--her purple robe she tears, And from a lofty beam the hideous noose prepares.