Behold Murranus, boasting his high birth from far-descended sires of storied name, the line of Latium 's kings! Aeneas now with mountain-boulder lays him low in dust, smitten with whirlwind of the monster stone; and o'er him fallen under yoke and rein roll his own chariot wheels, while with swift tread the mad hoofs of his horses stamp him down, not knowing him their lord. But Turnus found proud Hyllus fronting him with frantic rage, and at his golden helmet launched the shaft that pierced it; in his cloven brain it clung. Nor could thy sword, O Cretheus, save thee then from Turnus, though of bravest Greeks the peer; nor did Cupencus' gods their priest defend against Aeneas, but his breast he gave unto the hostile blade; his brazen shield delayed no whit his miserable doom. Thee also, Aeolus, Laurentum saw spread thy huge body dying on the ground; yea, dying, thou whom Greeks in serried arms subdued not, nor Achilles' hand that hurled the throne of Priam down: here didst thou touch thy goal of death; one stately house was thine on Ida's mountain, at Lyrnessus, one; Laurentum's hallowed earth was but thy grave. Now the whole host contends; all Latium meets all Ilium ; Mnestheus and Serestus bold; Messapus, the steed-breaker, and high-soured Asilas; Tuscans in a phalanx proud; Arcadian riders of Evander's train: each warrior lifts him to his height supreme of might and skill; no sloth nor lingering now, but in one far-spread conflict all contend. His goddess-mother in Aeneas' mind now stirred the purpose to make sudden way against the city-wall, in swift advance of all his line, confounding Latium so with slaughter and surprise. His roving glance, seeking for Turnus through the scattered lines this way and that, beholds in distant view the city yet unscathed and calmly free from the wide-raging fight. Then on his soul rushed the swift vision of a mightier war. Mnestheus, Sergestus, and Serestus brave, his chosen chiefs, he summons to his side, and stands upon a hillock, whither throng the Teucrian legions, each man holding fast his shield and spear. He, towering high, thus from the rampart to his people calls: “Perform my bidding swiftly: Jove's own hand sustains our power. Be ye not slack, because the thing I do is sudden. For this day I will pluck out th' offending root of war,— yon city where Latinus reigns. Unless it bear our yoke and heed a conqueror's will, will lay low in dust its blazing towers. Must I wait Turnus' pleasure, till he deign to meet my stroke, and have a mind once more, though vanquished, to show fight? My countrymen, see yonder stronghold of their impious war! Bring flames; avenge the broken oath with fire!” Scarce had he said, when with consenting souls, they speed them to the walls in dense array, forming a wedge. Ladders now leap in air, and sudden-blazing fires. In various war some troops run charging at the city-gates, and slay the guards; some fling the whirling spear and darken heaven with arrows. In their van, his right hand lifted to the wails and towers, Aeneas, calling on the gods to hear, loudly upbraids Latinus that once more conflict is thrust upon him; that once more Italians are his foes and violate their second pledge of peace. So blazes forth dissension 'twixt the frighted citizens: some would give o'er the city and fling wide its portals to the Trojan, or drag forth the King himself to parley; others fly to arms, and at the rampart make a stand. 'T is thus some shepherd from a caverned crag stirs up the nested bees with plenteous fume of bitter smoke; they, posting to and fro, fly desperate round the waxen citadel, and whet their buzzing fury; through their halls the stench and blackness rolls; within the caves noise and confusion ring; the fatal cloud pours forth incessant on the vacant air.