Then Turnus, standing o'er the dead, "Go to, Arcadians, hear and let Evander know, I send back Pallas, handled as was due.
If aught of honour can a tomb bestow, If earth's cold lap yield solace to his woe, I grant it.

Dearly will his Dardan guest Cost him, I trow." Then, trampling on the foe, His left foot on the lifeless corpse he pressed, And tore the ponderous belt in triumph from his breast; LXVII.

The belt, whereon the tale of guilt was told,-- The wedding night, the couches smeared with gore, The bridegrooms slain--which Clonus in the gold, The son of Eurytus, had grav'n of yore, And Turnus now, exulting, seized and wore.
Vain mortals! triumphing past bounds to-day, Blind to to-morrow's destiny.

The hour Shall come, when gold in plenty would he pay Ne'er Pallas to have touched, and curse the costly prey.
LXVIII.

With tears his comrades lifted from the ground Dead Pallas; groaning, on his shield they bore Him homeward, and the bitter wail went round.
"O grief! O glory! fall'n to rise no more! Thus back we bring thee, thus the son restore! One day to battle gave thee, one hath ta'en, Victor and vanquished in the self-same hour! Yet fall'n with honour, for behind thee slain, Heaps of Rutulian foes thou leavest on the plain!" LXIX.