There, too, is slain Grey-haired Galaesus, parleying but in vain.
More righteous none, though many around lie killed, None wealthier did Ausonia's realm contain.
Five herds, five bleating flocks, his pastures filled, And with a hundred ploughs his fruitful lands he tilled.
LXXIII.

Thus while the conflict wavered on the plain, The Fury, pleased her triumph to survey, Her pledge fulfilled,--War crimsoned with the stain Of gore, and grim Death busy with his prey,-- Swift from Hesperia wings her airy way, And proudly speaks to Juno: "See, 'tis done; The discord perfect in the dolorous fray, And War with all its miseries begun.
Now bid, forsooth, the foes plight friendship and be one.
LXXIV.

"Steeped are thy Trojans in Ausonian gore.
Yet speak, and more will I perform, if so Thy purpose holds.

Along the neighbouring shore Each town shall hear the rumour of the foe, Each breast with frenzy for the strife shall glow, Till all bring aid, and fruitful is the land In deeds of blood."-- Then Juno: "Nay, not so; Enough of fraud and terror.

Firmly stand The causes of the feud; they battle hand to hand, LXXV.