His kindred gods the hero’s wishes crown With fair Lavinia, and Latinus’ throne; But not without a war the prize he won. Drawn up in bright array the battle stands: Turnus with arms his promised wife demands. Etrurians, Latians equal fortune share, And doubtful long appears the face of war. Both powers from neighbouring princes seek supplies, And embassies appoint for new allies. Aeneas, for relief, Evander moves; His quarrel he asserts, his case approves. The bold Rutulians, with an equal speed, Sage Venulus despatch to Diomed. The king, late griefs revolving in his mind, These reasons for neutrality assign’d:

“Shall I, of one poor dotal town possess’d, My people thin, my wretched country waste; An exiled prince, and on a shaking throne; Or risk my patron’s subjects, or my own? You’ll grieve the harshness of our hap to hear; Nor can I tell the tale without a tear.