done:
With all the manhood of our land the battle hath been fought:
But now what better way herein my doubtful mind hath thought
Will I set forth, and shortly tell the rede that is in me:
Hearken! beside the Tuscan stream I own an ancient lea,
Which, toward the sunset stretching far, yea o'er Sicanian bounds,
Aruncans and Rutulians sow, working the rough hill grounds
With draught of plough, but feeding down the roughest with their sheep.
Let all this land, and piny place upon the mountain-steep, 320
Be yielded for the Teucrian peace: the laws let us declare
For plighted troth, and bid the men as friends our realm to share.
There let them settle and build walls, if thitherward they yearn;
But if unto another land their minds are set to turn,
And other folk, and all they ask is from our shore to flee,
Then let us build them twice ten ships from oak of Italy,
Or more if they have men thereto: good store of ship-stuff lies
Hard by the waves; and they shall show their number and their guise;
But toil of men, and brass and gear we for their needs will find.
And now to carry these our words, and fast the troth-plight bind, 330
Send we an hundred speech-masters, the best of Latin land,
To seek them thither, stretching forth the peace-bough in the hand,
And bearing gifts; a talent's weight of gold and ivory,
The throne therewith and welted gown, signs of my lordship high.
Take open counsel; stay the State so faint and weary grown."

Then Drances, ever full of hate, whom Turnus' great renown
With bitter stings of envy thwart goaded for evermore;
Lavish of wealth and fair of speech, but cold-hand in the war;
Held for no unwise man of redes, a make-bate keen enow;
The lordship of whose life, forsooth, from well-born dam did flow, 340
His father being of no account--upriseth now this man,
And piles a grievous weight of words with all the wrath he can.
"A matter dark to none, and which no voice of mine doth need,
Thou counsellest on, sweet King: for all confess in very deed
They wot whereto our fortune drives; but fear their speech doth hide:
Let him give liberty of speech, and sink his windy pride,
Because of whose unhappy fate, and evil life and will--
Yea, I will speak, despite his threats to smite me and to kill--
So many days of dukes are done, and all the city lies