Then first, 'tis said, in war Ascanius drew His bow, wherewith in boyish days he plied The flying game.

His hand Numanus slew, Called Remulus, to Turnus late allied, For Turnus' youngest sister was his bride.
He, puffed with new-won royalty and proud, Stalked in the forefront of the fight, and cried With random clamour and big words and loud, Fain by his noise to show his grandeur to the crowd.
LXXVII.

"Think ye no shame, poor cowards, thus again Behind your sheltering battlements to stand, Twice-captured Phrygians! and to plant in vain These walls, to shield you from the foemen's hand?
Lo, these the varlets who our wives demand! What God, what madness blinded you, that e'er Ye thought to venture to Italia's land?
No wily-worded Ithacan is near; Far other foes than he or Atreus' sons are here.
LXXVIII.

"Our babes are hardened in the frost and flood, Strong is the stock and sturdy whence we came.
Our boys from morn till evening scour the wood, Their joy is hunting, and the steed to tame, To bend the bow, the flying shaft to aim.
Patient of toil, and used to scanty cheer, Our youths with rakes the stubborn glebe reclaim, Or storm the town.

Through life we grasp the spear.
In war it strikes the foe, in peace it goads the steer.
LXXIX.