So saying, Juturna to the youths imparts Fresh rage, and murmurs through the concourse run, And changed are Latin and Laurentian hearts, And they, who lately sought the strife to shun, And longed for rest, now wish the league undone, And, pitying Turnus, wrongly doomed to die, Call out for arms.

And now, her work begun, Juturna shows a lying sign on high, That shakes Italian hearts, and cheats the wondering eye.
XXXII.

Jove's golden eagle through the crimson skies In chase of clanging marsh-fowl, swooped in flight Down on a swan, and trussed the noble prize.
The Latins gaze, when lo, a wondrous sight! Back wheels the flock, and all with screams unite, And darkening, as a cloud, in dense array Press on the foe, till, overborne by might, And yielding to sheer weight, he drops the prey Into the stream below, and cloudward soars away.
XXXIII.

With shouts the glad Rutulians hail the sign, And lift their hands.

Then spake the seer straightway, Tolumnius: "Welcome, welcome, powers divine! 'Twas this--'twas this I longed for, day by day.
To arms! 'Tis I, Tolumnius, lead the way.
Poor souls! whom yon strange pirate would enslave, Like feeble birds, and make your coast a prey.
He too shall fly, and vanish o'er the wave.
Stand close and fight as one, your captive king to save." XXXIV.