High in the forefront towered with stately frame Turnus himself.

His three-plumed helmet bore A dragon fierce, that breathed AEtnean flame.
The bloodier waxed the battle, so the more Its fierceness blazed, the louder was its roar.
Behold, the heifer on his shield, the sign Of Io's fate; there Argus ever o'er The virgin watches, and the stream doth shine, Poured from the pictured urn of Inachus divine.
CVII.

Next come the shielded footmen in a cloud, Auruncan bands, Sicanians famed of yore, Argives, Rutulians, and Sacranians proud.
Their painted shields the brave Labicians bore; From Tibur's glades, from blest Numicia's shore, From Circe's mount, from where great Jove presides O'er Anxur, from Feronia's grove they pour, From Satura's dark pool, where Ufens glides Cold through the deepening vales, and mingles with the tides.
CVIII.

Last came Camilla, with the Volscian bands, Fierce horsemen, each in glittering arms bedight, A warrior-virgin; ne'er her tender hands Had plied the distaff; war was her delight, Her joy to race the whirlwind and to fight.
Swift as the breeze, she skimmed the golden grain, Nor bent the tapering wheatstalks in her flight, So swift, the billows of the heaving main Touched not her flying fleet, she scoured the watery plain.
CIX.

Forth from each field and homestead, hurrying, throng, With wonder, men and matrons, young and old, And greet the maiden as she moves along.
Entranced with greedy rapture, they behold Her royal scarf, in many a purple fold, Float o'er her shining shoulders, and her hair Bound in a coronal of clasping gold, Her Lycian quiver, and her pastoral spear Of myrtle, tipt with steel, and her, the maid, how fair!.