So met the ranks, and mingled, man with man, Latins and Dardans in promiscuous throng, Mnestheus and fierce Serestus in the van, Messapus, tamer of the steed, and strong Asylas.

There in tumult swept along Arcadian horsemen, and the Tuscan train.
No rest is theirs, no respite; loud and long The conflict rages, as with might and main, Each for his own dear life, the warriors strive and strain.
LXXII.

Now lovely Venus doth her son persuade To seek the walls, and townward turn his train, And deal swift havoc on the foe dismayed.
While here and there AEneas scans the plain, Still tracking Turnus through the ranks in vain, Far off the peaceful city he espies, Unscathed, unstirred, and in his restless brain The vision of a greater war doth rise; Larger the War-God looms, and to his chiefs he cries.
LXXIII.

Mnestheus, Sergestus and Serestus strong He calls, and on a hillock takes his stand.
There, mustering round him, all the Teucrians throng, Each armed with buckler, and his spear in hand, And from the mound he thus exhorts the band: "Hear, sons of Teucer, and let none be slack.
Jove fights for us, so hearken my command.
Though strange the venture, sudden the attack, Let none for that cause faint, none loiter and hang back.
LXXIV.

"This town--unless they yield them and obey-- This town, the centre of Latinus' reign, The cause of war, will I uproot this day, And raze her smoking roof-tops to the plain.
What! shall I wait, and wait, till Turnus deign To take fresh heart, and tempt the war's rough game, And, conquered, face his conqueror again?
See there the fount of all this blood! For shame; Bring quick the torch; let fire the perjured pact reclaim!" LXXV.