Aeneas thus: then with uplifted eyesLatinus swore, his right hand raised to heaven:“I too, Aeneas, take the sacred vow.By earth and sea and stars in heaven I swear,by fair Latona's radiant children twain,and two-browed Janus; by the shadowy powersof Hades and th' inexorable shrinesof the Infernal King; and may Jove hear,who by his lightnings hallows what is sworn!I touch these altars, and my lips invokethe sacred altar-fires that 'twixt us burn:we men of Italy will make this peaceinviolate, and its bond forever keep,let come what will; there is no power can changemy purpose, not if ocean's waves o'erwhelmthe world in billowy deluge and obscurethe bounds of heaven and hell. We shall remainimmutable as my smooth sceptre is“(By chance a sceptre in his hand he bore),“which wears no more light leaf or branching shade;for long since in the grove 't was plucked awayfrom parent stem, and yielded to sharp steelits leaves and limbs; erewhile 't was but a tree,till the wise craftsman with fair sheath of bronzeencircled it and laid it in the handsof Latium's royal sires.” With words like thesethey swore the bond, in the beholding eyesof gathered princes. Then they slit the throatsof hallowed victims o'er the altar's blaze,drew forth the quivering vitals, and with fleshon loaded chargers heaped the sacrifice.

But to Rutulian eyes th' approaching joustseemed all ill-matched; and shifting hopes and fearsdisturbed their hearts the closer they surveyedth' unequal risks: still worse it was to seehow Turnus, silent and with downcast eyes,dejectedly drew near the place of prayer,worn, pale, and wasted in his youthful bloom.The nymph Juturna, with a sister's fear,noted the growing murmur, and perceivedhow all the people's will did shift and change;she went from rank to rank, feigning the shapeof Camers, scion of illustrious line,with heritage of valor, and himselfdauntless in war; unceasingly she ranfrom rank to rank, spreading with skilful tongueopinions manifold, and thus she spoke:“Will ye not blush, Rutulians, so to stakeone life for many heroes? Are we nottheir match in might and numbers? O, beholdthose Trojan sons of Heaven making leaguewith exiled Arcady; see Tuscan hordesstorming at Turnus. Yet we scarce could findone foe apiece, forsooth, if we should darefight them with half our warriors. Of a truthyour champion brave shall to those gods ascendbefore whose altars his great heart he vows;and lips of men while yet on earth he stayswill spread his glory far. Ourselves, instead,must crouch to haughty masters, and resignthis fatherland upon whose fruitful fieldswe dwell at ease.” So speaking, she inflamedthe warriors' minds, and through the legions ranincreasing whisper; the Laurentine hostand even Latium wavered. Those who lateprayed but for rest and safety, clamored loudfor arms, desired annulment of the league,and pitied Turnus' miserable doom.Whereon Juturna tried a mightier stroke,a sign from heaven, which more than all besideconfused the Latins and deceived their heartswith prodigy. For through the flaming skiesJove's golden eagle swooped, and scattered fara clamorous tribe of river-haunting birds;then, swiftly to the waters falling, seizedone noble swan, which with keen, curving clawshe ruthless bore away: th' Italians allwatched eagerly, while the loud-screaming flockwheeled upward (wondrous sight!), with host of wingsshadowed the sky, and in a legion-cloudchased through the air the foe; till, overborneby heavier odds, the eagle from his clawsflung back his victim to the waves, and fledto the dim, distant heaven. The Rutules thenhailed the good omen with consenting cry,and grasped the sword and shield. Tolumniusthe augur spake first: “Lo, the sign I soughtwith many a prayer! I welcome and obeythe powers divine. Take me for captain, me!And draw your swords, ye wretches, whom th' assaultof yonder foreign scoundrel puts in fearlike feeble birds, and with his violencelays waste your shore. He too shall fly away,spreading his ships' wings on the distant seas.Close up your ranks—one soul in all our breasts!Defend in open war your stolen King.”So saying, he hurled upon th' opposing foehis javelin, running forward. The strong shaftof corner whistled shrill, and clove the airunerring. Instantly vast clamor rose,and all th' onlookers at the spectacleleaped up amazed, and every heart beat high.The spear sped flying to the foeman's line,where stood nine goodly brethren, pledges allof one true Tuscan mother to her lord,Gylippus of Arcadia; it struck fullon one of these at his gold-belted waist,and where the clasp clung, pierced the rib clean through.And stretched the fair youth in his glittering armsfull length and lifeless on the yellow sand.His brothers then, bold band to wrath arousedby sorrow, seize the sword or snatch the spearand blindly charge. Opposing them, the hostLaurentine makes advance, and close-arrayedthe Trojans like a torrent pour, enforcedby Tuscans and the gay-accoutred clansof Arcady. One passion moved in allto try the judgment of the sword. They torethe altars down: a very storm of spearsrose angrily to heaven, in iron raindown-pouring: while the priests bore far awaythe sacrificial bowls and sacred fires.Even Latinus fled; his stricken godsfar from his violated oath he bore.