ommand thee. For, {once} received within the City, thou shalt be king,
and thou shalt safely enjoy a lasting sceptre." He retreated backwards,
and turning his stern visage away from the walls of the City, he
exclaimed, "Far, O far away may the Gods drive such omens! Much more
righteously shall I pass my life in exile, than if the Capitol were to
see me a king."

{Thus} he says; and forthwith he convokes the people and the dignified
Senate; but first, he veils his horns with laurel that betokens peace,
and he stands upon a mound raised by his brave soldiers; and praying to
the Gods after the ancient manner, "Behold!" says he, "one is here who
will be king, if you do not expel him from the City. I will tell you who
he is by a sign, {and} not by name. He wears horns on his forehead; the
augur predicts to you, that if he enters the City, he shall give you
laws as his slaves. He, indeed, was able to enter the open gates, but I
have opposed him; although no one is more nearly allied with him than
myself. Forbid your City to this man, ye Romans, or, if he shall deserve
it, bind him with heavy fetters; or else end your fears by the death of
the destined tyrant."

As the murmur which arises among the groves of the slender pine,[60]
when the furious East wind whistles among them, or as that which the
waves of the ocean produce, if any one hears them from afar, such is the
noise of the crowd. But yet amid the confused words of the shouting
multitude, one cry is distinguished, "Which is he?" And then they
examine the foreheads, and seek the predicted horns. Cippus again
addresses them: "Him whom you require, ye {now} have;" and, despite of
the people, throwing the chaplet from his head, he exhibits his temples,
remarkable for two horns. All cast down their eyes, and utter groans,
and (who would have supposed it?) they unwillingly look upon that head
famed for its merits. And no longer suffering it to be deprived of its
honours, they place upon it the festive chaplet. But the nobles, Cippus,
since thou art forbidden to enter the city, give thee as much land, as a
mark of honour, as thou canst, with the oxen yoked to the pressed
plough, make the circuit of from the rising of the sun to its setting.
They carve, too, the horns, imitating their wondrous form, on the
door-posts adorned with brass, {there} to remain for long ages.

[Footnote 53: _Voluntarily invited._--Ver. 481. He was living at
the Sabine town of Cures, when th