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justice, from this mound would he harangue his horsemen; watch-towers and strongholds in wide circuit did he set—dost thou see?—and drew a trench around these walls; these gifts, these weapons did he dedicate to the god of war—thou seest still their titles; this cuirass he himself put on at the battle’s summons, this one did he take from off the British king.” Such tales would Phoenix tell to Pyrrhus, as he planned victorious war against the Trojans, of Achilles whom he had never known.

Happy thou, Optatus, who trusting in thy supple youth shalt endure whatever road or rampart thou shalt approach, girt thyself also with the sword, perchance—so be the godhead of the Prince propitious—and the untiring comrade of thy bosom friend, even as was devoted Pylades, or Patroclus in the Dardan war. A union of hearts is yours; true affection is this, and I pray that it abide. For me, the years of vigour speed fast away; therefore with vows and prayers will I cheer thy spirit, and mine as well! But if I utter my wonted lament and the Roman fathers come to hear my song, I shall then feel thy loss, Crispinus, and my Achilles^[1] will look on every bench for thee in vain. But thou shalt return yet more renowned—not idly run the prophecies of the seers—and he who now admits thee to the eagles^[2] and the camp shall grant thee to accomplish all the degrees of rank, and to be surrounded by the rods of power, and to take thy seat on thy father’s curule chair.

But who is this that from Trojan Alba’s^[3] lofty hills,