Meanwhile o'er sorrowing mortals the bright morn had lifted her mild beam, renewing so the burden of man's toil. Aeneas now built funeral pyres along the winding shore, King Tarchon at his side. Each thither brought the bodies of his kin, observing well all ancient ritual. The fuming fires burned from beneath, till highest heaven was hid in blackest, overmantling cloud. Three times the warriors, sheathed in proud, resplendent steel, paced round the kindling pyres; and three times fair companies of horsemen circled slow, with loud lamenting, round the doleful flame. The wail of warriors and the trumpets' blare the very welkin rend. Cast on the flames are spoils of slaughtered Latins,—helms and blades, bridles and chariot-wheels. Yet others bring gifts to the dead familiar, their own shields and unavailing spears. Around them slain great herds of kine give tribute unto death: swine, bristly-backed, from many a field are borne, and slaughtered sheep bleed o'er the sacred fire. So on the shore the wailing multitude behold their comrades burning, and keep guard o'er the consuming pyres, nor turn away till cooling night re-shifts the globe of heaven, thick-strewn with numberless far-flaming stars. Likewise the mournful Latins far away have built their myriad pyres. Yet of the slain not few in graves are laid, and borne with tears to neighboring country-side or native town; the rest—promiscuous mass of dead unknown— to nameless and unhonored ashes burn; with multitude of fires the far-spread fields blaze forth unweariedly. But when from heaven the third morn had dispelled the dark and cold, the mournful bands raked forth the mingled bones and plenteous ashes from the smouldering pyres, then heaped with earth the one sepulchral mound. Now from the hearth-stones of the opulent town of old Latinus a vast wail burst forth, for there was found the chief and bitterest share of all the woe. For mothers in their tears, lone brides, and stricken souls of sisters fond, and boys left fatherless, fling curses Ioud on Turnus' troth-plight and the direful war: “Let him, let Turnus, with his single sword decide the strife,”—they cry,—“and who shall claim Lordship of Italy and power supreme.” Fierce Drances whets their fury, urging all that Turnus singly must the challenge hear, and singly wage the war; but others plead in Turnus' favor; the Queen's noble name protects him, and his high renown in arms defends his cause with well-won trophies fair. Amid these tumults of the wrathful throng, lo, the ambassadors to Diomed arrive with cloudy forehead from their quest in his illustrious town; for naught availed their toilsome errand, nor the gifts and gold, nor strong entreaty. Other help in war the Latins now must find, or humbly sue peace from the Trojan. At such tidings dire even Latinus trembles: Heaven's decrees and influence of gods too visible sustain Aeneas; so the wrath divine and new-filled sepulchres conspicuous give warning clear. Therefore the King convenes a general council of his captains brave beneath the royal towers. They, gathering, throng the approaches thither, where their Iord, gray-haired Latinus, takes the central throne, wearing authority with mournful brow. He bids the envoys from Aetolia's King sent back, to speak and tell the royal words in order due. Forthwith on every tongue fell silence, while the princely Venulus, heeding his Iord's behest, began the parle: “My countrymen,” he said, “our eyes have seen strongholds of Greeks and Diomed the King. We braved all perils to our journey's end and clasped that hand whereof the dreadful stroke wrought Ilium 's fall. The hero built a town, Argyripa, hereditary name, near mount Garganus in Apulian land: passing that city's portal and the King's, we found free audience, held forth thy gifts, and told our names and fatherland. We showed what condict was enkindled, and what cause brought us to Arpi's King. He, hearing all, with brow benign made answer to our plea: ‘O happy tribes in Saturn's kingdom born, Ausonia's ancient stem! What fortune blind tempts ye from peace away, and now ensnares in wars unknown? Look how we men that dared lay Ilium waste (I speak not of what woes in battling neath her lofty walls we bore, nor of dead warriors sunk in Simois' wave) have paid the penalty in many a land with chastisement accurst and changeful woe, till Priam's self might pity. Let the star of Pallas tell its tale of fatal storm, off grim Caphereus and Eubcea's crags. Driven asunder from one field of war, Atrides unto farthest Egypt strayed, and wise Ulysses saw from Aetna 's caves the Cyclops gathering. Why name the throne of Pyrrhus, or the violated hearth whence fled Idomeneus? Or Locri cast on Libya 's distant shore? For even he, Lord of Mycenae by the Greeks obeyed, fell murdered on his threshold by the hand of that polluted wife, whose paramour trapped Asia 's conqueror. The envious gods withheld me also from returning home to see once more the hearth-stone of my sires, the wife I yearn for, and my Calydon, the beauteous land. For wonders horrible pursue me still. My vanished followers through upper air take wing, or haunt and rove in forms of birds the island waters o'er: ah me, what misery my people feel! The tall rocks ring with their lament and cry. Naught else had I to hope for from that day when my infatuate sword on gods I drew, and outraged with abominable wound the hand of Venus. Urge me not, I pray, to conflicts in this wise. No more for me of war with Trojans after Ilium 's fall! I take no joy in evils past, nor wish such memory to renew. Go, lay these gifts, brought to my honor from your ancient land, at great Aeneas' feet. We twain have stood confronting close with swords implacable in mortal fray. Believe me, I have known the stature of him when he lifts his shield, and swings the whirlwind of his spear. If Troy 
 two more such sons had bred, the Dardan horde had stormed at Argos ' gates, and Greece to-day were for her fallen fortunes grieving sore. Our lingering at Ilium 's stubborn wall, our sluggard conquest halting ten years Iong, was his and Hector's work. Heroic pair! Each one for valor notable, and each famous in enterprise of arms,—but he was first in piety. Enclasp with his your hands in plighted peace as best ye may: but shock of steel on steel ye well may shun.’ now hast thou heard, good King, a king's reply, and how his wisdom sits in this vast war.” Soon as the envoys ceased, an answering sound of troubled voices through the council flowed of various note, as when its rocky bed impedes an arrowy stream, and murmurs break from the strait-channelled flood; the fringing shores repeat the tumult of the clamorous wave. But when their hearts and troublous tongues were still, the King, invoking first the gods in heaven, thus from a Iofty throne his sentence gave: