Kitap 9
is spent in use of iron; and we goad
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the flanks of bullocks with a javelin's end.
Nor doth old age, arriving late, impair
our brawny vigor, nor corrupt the soul
to frail decay. But over silvered brows
we bind the helmet. Our unfailing joy
is rapine, and to pile the plunder high.
But ye! your gowns-are saffron needlework
or Tyrian purple; ye love shameful ease,
or dancing revelry. Your tunics fiow
long-sleeved, and ye have soft caps ribbon-bound.
Aye, Phrygian girls are ye, not Phrygian men!
Hence to your hill of Dindymus! Go hear
the twy-mouthed piping ye have loved so long.
The timbrel, hark! the Berecynthian flute
calls you away, and Ida's goddess calls.
Leave arms to men, true men! and quit the sword!”
Of such loud insolence and words of shame
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Ascanius brooked no more, but laid a shaft
athwart his bowstring, and with arms stretched wide
took aim, first offering suppliant vow to Jove:
“Almighty Jupiter, thy favor show
to my bold deed! So to thy shrine I bear
gifts year by year, and to thine altars lead
a bull with gilded brows, snow-white, and tall
as his own dam, what time his youth begins
to lower his horns and fling the sand in air.”
The Father heard, and from a cloudless sky
thundered to leftward, while the deadly bow
resounded and the arrow's fearful song
hissed from the string; it struck unswervingly
the head of Remulus and clove its way
deep in the hollows of his brow. “Begone!
Proud mocker at the brave! Lo, this reply
twice-vanquished Phrygians to Rutulia send.”
Ascanius said no more. The Teucrians
with deep-voiced shout of joy applaud, and lift
their exultation starward. Then from heaven
the flowing-haired Apollo bent his gaze
upon Ausonia's host, and cloud-enthroned
