His captive herds; and, thence in triumph led, On Tuscan Tyber's flowery banks they fed. Then, on mount Aventine, the son of Jove The priestess Rhea found, and forced to love. For arms, his men long piles and javelins bore; And poles with pointed steel their foes in battle gore. Like Hercules himself, his son appears In savage pomp; a lion's hide he wears; About his shoulders hangs the shaggy skin; The teeth and gaping jaws severely grin. Thus, like the god his father, homely drest, He strides into the hall, a horrid guest. Then two twin-brothers from fair Tibur came, (Which from their brother Tiburs took the name,) Fierce Coras and Catillus, void of fear: Armed Argive horse they led, and in the front appear, Like cloud-born Centaurs, from the mountain's height With rapid course descending to the fight; They rush along, the rattling woods give way; The branches bend before their sweepy sway. Nor was Præneste's founder wanting there, Whom fame reports the son of Mulciber: Found in the fire, and fostered in the plains, } A shepherd and a king at once he reigns, } And leads to Turnus' aid his country swains. } His own Præneste sends a chosen band, With those who plough Saturnia's Gabine land; Besides the succour which cold Anien yields, The rocks of Hernicus, and dewy fields, Anagnia fat, and father Amasene-- A numerous rout, but all of naked men: Nor arms they wear, nor swords and bucklers wield, Nor drive the chariot through the dusty field, But whirl from leathern slings huge balls of lead, And spoils of yellow wolves adorn their head; The left foot naked, when they march to fight, But in a bull's raw hide they sheath the right. Messapus next, (great Neptune was his sire,) Secure of steel, and fated from the fire, In pomp appears, and with his ardour warms A heartless train, unexercised in arms: The just Faliscans he to battle brings, And those who live where lake Ciminius springs; And where Feronia's grove and temple stands, Who till Fescennian or Flavinian lands: All these in order march, and marching sing The warlike actions of their sea-born king; Like a long team of snowy swans on high, Which clap their wings, and cleave the liquid sky, When, homeward from their watery pastures borne, They sing, and Asia's lakes their notes return. Not one, who heard their music from afar, Would think these troops an army trained to war, But flocks of fowl, that, when the tempests roar, With their hoarse gabbling seek the silent shore. Then Clausus came, who led a numerous band Of troops embodied from the Sabine land, And, in himself alone, an army brought. 'Twas he the noble Claudian race begot, The Claudian race, ordained, in times to come, To share the greatness of imperial Rome. He led the Cures forth of old renown, Mutuscans from their olive-bearing town,