While these affairs in distant places passed, The various Iris Juno sends with haste, To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought, The secret shade of his great grandsire sought. Retired alone she found the daring man, And oped her rosy lips, and thus began:-- "What none of all the gods could grant thy vows-- That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows. Æneas, gone to seek the Arcadian prince, Has left the Trojan camp without defence; And, short of succours there, employs his pains In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains. Now snatch an hour that favours thy designs; Unite thy forces, and attack their lines." This said, on equal wings she poised her weight, And formed a radiant rainbow in her flight. The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes, And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:-- "Iris, the grace of heaven! what power divine Has sent thee down, through dusky clouds to shine? See, they divide: immortal day appears, And glittering planets dancing in their spheres! With joy, these happy omens I obey, And follow, to the war, the god that leads the way." Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, He scooped the water from the crystal flood; Then with his hands the drops to heaven he throws, And loads the powers above with offered vows. Now march the bold confederates through the plain, Well horsed, well clad--a rich and shining train. Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear, The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear. In the main battle, with his flaming crest, The mighty Turnus towers above the rest, Silent they move, majestically slow, Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow. The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far, And the dark menace of the distant war. Caïcus from the rampire saw it rise, Blackening the fields, and thickening through the skies. Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:-- "What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls? Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears, And pointed darts! the Latian host appears." Thus warned, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend: For their wise general, with foreseeing care, Had charged them not to tempt the doubtful war, Nor, though provoked, in opens fields advance, But close within their lines attend their chance. Unwilling, yet they keep the strict command, And sourly wait in arms the hostile band. The fiery Turnus flew before the rest: } A piebald steed of Thracian strain he pressed; } His helm of massy gold; and crimson was his crest. } With twenty horse to second his designs, An unexpected foe, he faced the lines.-- "Is there, (he said,) in arms, who bravely dare His leader's honour and his dangers share?" Then spurring on, his brandished dart he threw,