Then even the city troops, and Latians, tired With tedious war, seem with new souls inspired: Their champion's fate with pity they lament, And of the league, so lately sworn, repent. Nor fails the goddess to foment the rage With lying wonders, and a false presage; But adds a sign, which, present to their eyes, Inspires new courage, and a glad surprise. For, sudden, in the fiery tracts above, Appears in pomp the imperial bird of Jove: A plump of fowl he spies, that swim the lakes, And o'er their heads his sounding pinions shakes; Then, stooping on the fairest of the train, In his strong talons trussed a silver swan. The Italians wonder at the unusual sight: But while he lags, and labours in his flight, Behold, the dastard fowl return anew, And with united force the foe pursue: Clamorous around the royal hawk they fly, And, thickening in a cloud, o'ershade the sky. They cuff, they scratch, they cross his airy course; Nor can the encumbered bird sustain their force; But, vexed, not vanquished, drops the ponderous prey, And, lightened of his burden, wings his way. The Ausonian bands with shouts salute the sight, Eager of action, and demand the fight. Then king Tolumnius, versed in augurs' arts, Cries out, and thus his boasted skill imparts:-- "At length 'tis granted, what I long desired! This, this is what my frequent vows required. Ye gods! I take your omen, and obey.-- Advance, my friends, and charge! I lead the way. These are the foreign foes, whose impious band, Like that rapacious bird, infest our land: But soon, like him, they shall be forced to sea By strength united, and forego the prey. Your timely succour to your country bring; Haste to the rescue, and redeem your king." He said: and, pressing onward through the crew, Poised in his lifted arm, his lance he threw. The winged weapon, whistling in the wind, Came driving on, nor missed the mark designed. At once the cornel rattled in the skies; At once tumultuous shouts and clamours rise. Nine brothers in a goodly band there stood, Born of Arcadian mixed with Tuscan blood, Gylippus' sons; the fatal javelin flew, Aimed at the midmost of the friendly crew. A passage through the jointed arms it found, } Just where the belt was to the body bound, } And struck the gentle youth extended on the ground. } Then, fired with pious rage, the generous train Run madly forward to revenge the slain. And some with eager haste their javelins throw; And some with sword in hand assault the foe. The wished insult the Latine troops embrace, And meet their ardour in the middle space. The Trojans, Tuscans, and Arcadian line, With equal courage obviate their design. Peace leaves the violated fields; and hate Both armies urges to their mutual fate.