Above the rest, the Volscian Amazon Contains an army in herself alone, And heads a squadron, terrible to sight, With glittering shields, in brazen armour bright. Yet, if the foe a single fight demand, And I alone the public peace withstand; If you consent, he shall not be refused, Nor find a hand to victory unused. This new Achilles, let him take the field, With fated armour, and Vulcanian shield! For you, my royal father, and my fame, I, Turnus, not the least of all my name, Devote my soul. He calls me hand to hand; And I alone will answer his demand. Drances shall rest secure, and neither share The danger, nor divide the prize, of war." While they debate, nor these nor those will yield, Æneas draws his forces to the field, And moves his camp. The scouts with flying speed Return, and through the frighted city spread The unpleasing news,--"The Trojans are descried, In battle marching by the river-side, And bending to the town." They take the alarm: Some tremble, some are bold; all in confusion arm. The impetuous youth press forward to the field; They clash the sword, and clatter on the shield: The fearful matrons raise a screaming cry; } Old feeble men with fainter groans reply; } A jarring sound results, and mingles in the sky, } Like that of swans remurmuring to the floods, Or birds of differing kinds in hollow woods. Turnus the occasion takes, and cries aloud:-- "Talk on, ye quaint haranguers of the crowd: Declaim in praise of peace, when danger calls, And the fierce foes in arms approach the walls." He said, and, turning short with speedy pace, Casts back a scornful glance, and quits the place.-- "Thou, Volusus, the Volscian troops command To mount; and lead thyself our Ardean band. Messapus, and Catillus, post your force Along the fields, to charge the Trojan horse. Some guard the passes, others man the wall; Drawn up in arms, the rest attend my call." They swarm from every quarter of the town, And with disordered haste the rampires crown. Good old Latinus, when he saw, too late, The gathering storm just breaking on the state, Dismissed the council till a fitter time, And owned his easy temper as his crime, Who, forced against his reason, had complied To break the treaty for the promised bride. Some help to sink new trenches; others aid To ram the stones, or raise the palisade. Hoarse trumpets sound the alarm; around the walls Runs a distracted crew, whom their last labour calls. A sad procession in the streets is seen, Of matrons, that attend the mother queen: High in her chair she sits, and, at her side, With downcast eyes appears the fatal bride. They mount the cliff, where Pallas' temple stands; Prayers in their mouths, and presents in their hands.