The Aeneid
“An enormous oak, its branches lopped and trunk laid bare, he stakes on a mound and decks with the burnished arms he stripped from Mezentius, that strong captain: a trophy to you, Mars, the great god of war. Aeneas fixes the crests still dripping blood, the enemy’s splintered spears and breastplate battered hard and pierced in a dozen places. Fast to the left hand he straps the brazen shield and down from the neck he hangs the ivory-hilted sword. Then he turns to his comrades, bands of officers ...pressing round him there, and Aeneas starts in to stir their spirits flushed with recent triumph: “What magnificent things we’ve done, my friends! Dismiss all fears for what’s still left to do. These are the spoils stripped from a proud king, our first fruits of battle, this is Mezentius, the work of my right hand! Now on we go to the Latian king, his city walls. Sharpen your swords with heart and pin your hopes on war! No taking us off guard, no hanging back, no dread must cripple our steps with anxious second thoughts when the gods allow us to pull our standards up, strike camp, and move the army out.MoreLess
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