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d distressful cry. “Alack,” he cried, “what stirs in yonder walls such anguish? Or why rings from side to side such wailing through the city?” Asking so, he tightened frantic grasp upon the rein. To him his sister, counterfeiting still the charioteer Metiscus, while she swayed rein, steeds, and chariot, this answer made: “Hither, my Turnus, let our arms pursue the sons of Troy. Here lies the nearest way to speedy triumph. There be other swords to keep yon city safe. Aeneas now storms against Italy in active war; we also on this Trojan host may hurl grim havoc. Nor shalt thou the strife give o'er in glory second, nor in tale of slain.” Turnus replied, “O sister, Iong ago I knew thee what thou wert, when guilefully thou didst confound their treaty, and enlist thy whole heart in this war. No Ionger now thy craft divine deceives me. But what god compelled thee, from Olympus fallen so far, to bear these cruel burdens? Wouldst thou see thy wretched brother slaughtered? For what else
. Here lies the nearest way to speedy triumph. There be other swords to keep yon city safe. Aeneas now storms against Italy in active war; we also on this Trojan host may hurl grim havoc. Nor shalt thou the strife give o'er in glory second, nor in tale of slain.” Turnus replied, “O sister, Iong ago I knew thee what thou wert, when guilefully thou didst confound their treaty, and enlist thy whole heart in this war. No Ionger now thy craft divine deceives me. But what god compelled thee, from Olympus fallen so far, to bear these cruel burdens? Wouldst thou see thy wretched brother slaughtered? For what else is in my power? What flattering hazard still holds forth deliverance? My own eyes have seen Murranus (more than any now on earth my chosen friend) who, calling on my name, died like a hero by a hero's sword. Ill-fated Ufens fell, enduring not to Iook upon my shame; the Teucrians divide his arms for spoil and keep his bones. Shall I stand tamely, till my hearth and home are levelled w
s worked his will; and now wind-wafted to his straining ear a nameless horror came, a dull, wild roar, the city's tumult and distressful cry. “Alack,” he cried, “what stirs in yonder walls such anguish? Or why rings from side to side such wailing through the city?” Asking so, he tightened frantic grasp upon the rein. To him his sister, counterfeiting still the charioteer Metiscus, while she swayed rein, steeds, and chariot, this answer made: “Hither, my Turnus, let our arms pursue the sons of Troy. Here lies the nearest way to speedy triumph. There be other swords to keep yon city safe. Aeneas now storms against Italy in active war; we also on this Trojan host may hurl grim havoc. Nor shalt thou the strife give o'er in glory second, nor in tale of slain.” Turnus replied, “O sister, Iong ago I knew thee what thou wert, when guilefully thou didst confound their treaty, and enlist thy whole heart in this war. No Ionger now thy craft divine deceives me. But what god compelled thee,