, quenched with gore
His father's wrath, famed Paeon's herbs of might
And Dian's fostering love restored him to the light.

CIV. Wroth then was Jove, that one of mortal clay
Should rise by mortal healing from the grave,
And change the nether darkness for the day,
And him, whose leechcraft thus availed to save,
Hurled with his lightning to the Stygian wave.
But kind Diana, in her pitying love,
Concealed her darling in a secret cave,
And fair Egeria nursed him in her grove,
Far from the view of men, and wrath of mighty Jove.

CV. There, changed in name to Virbius, but to fame
Unknown, through life in Latin woods he strayed.
Thenceforth, in memory of the deed of shame,
No horn-hoof'd steeds are suffered to invade
Chaste Trivia's temple or her sacred glade,
Since, scared by Ocean's monsters, from his car
They dashed him by the deep. Yet, undismayed,
His son, young Virbius, o'er the plains afar
The fleet-horsed chariot drives, and hastens to the war.

CVI. High in the forefront towered with stately frame
Turnus himself. His three-plumed helmet bore
A dragon fierce, that breathed AEtnean flame.
The bloodier waxed the battle, so the more
Its fierceness blazed, the louder was its roar.
Behold, the heifer on his shield, the sign
Of Io's fate; there Argus ever o'er
The virgin watches, and the stream doth shine,
Poured from the pictured urn of Inachus divine.

CVII. Next come the shielded footmen in a cloud,
Auruncan bands, Sicanians famed of yore,
Argives, Rutulians, and Sacranians proud.
Their painted shields the brave Labicians bore;
From Tibur's glades, from blest Numicia's shore,
From Circe's mount, from where great Jove presides
O'er Anxur, from Feronia's grove they pour,
From Satura's dark pool, where Ufens glides
Cold through the deepening vales, and mingles with the tides.

CVIII. Last came Camilla, with the Volscian bands,
Fierce horsemen, each in glittering arms bedight,
A warrior-virgin; ne'er her tender hands
Had plied the distaff; war was her delight,
Her joy to race the whirlwind and to fight.
Swift as the breeze, she skimmed the golden grain,
Nor bent the tapering wheatstalks in her flight,
So swift, the billows of the heaving main
Touched not her flying fleet, she scoured the watery plain.

CIX. Forth from each field and homestead, hurrying, throng,
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