Thus spoke Ilioneus: the Trojan crew With cries and clamors his request renew.
New clamors and new clangors now arise, The sound of trumpets mix’d with fighting cries.
New clamors from th’ invested palace ring: We run to die, or disengage the king.
Not less the clamor, than if— ancient Tyre, Or the new Carthage, set by foes on fireThe rolling ruin, with their lov’d abodes, Involv’d the blazing temples of their gods.
Cries, murmurs, clamors, with a mixing sound, From woods to woods, from hills to hills rebound.
These clamors with disdain the Scylla heard, Much grudg’d the praise, but more the robb’d reward: Resolv’d to hold their own, they mend their pace, All obstinate to die, or gain the race.
For twice five days the good old seer withstood Th’ intended treason, and was dumb to blood, Till, tir’d, with endless clamors and pursuit Of Ithacus, he stood no longer mute; But, as it was agreed, pronounc’d that I Was destin’d by the wrathful gods to die.
Amid the camp a silent seat they chose, Remote from clamor, and secure from foes.
The corps of Almon and the rest are shown; Shrieks, clamors, murmurs, fill the frighted town.
Undaunted, they themselves no danger shun; From wall to wall the shouts and clamors run.
His foes in sight, he mends his weary pace; With shout and clamors they pursue the chase.
At once the cornel rattled in the skies; At once tumultuous shouts and clamors rise.
Loud shouts and clamors rend the liquid sky, And o’er the field the frighted Latins fly.
Dissenting clamors in the town arise; Each will be heard, and all at once advise.
What doleful clamors from the town arise?
Rais’d on the stretch, young Turnus aims a blow Full on the helm of his unguarded foe: Shrill shouts and clamors ring on either side, As hopes and fears their panting hearts divide.
Then they, whose mothers, frantic with their fear, In woods and wilds the flags of Bacchus bear, And lead his dances with dishevel’d hair, Increase the clamor, and the war demand, (Such was Amata’s interest in the land,) Against the public sanctions of the peace, Against all omens of their ill success.
Her shrieks and clamors pierce the Trojans’ ears, Unman their courage, and augment their fears; Nor young Ascanius could the sight sustain, Nor old Ilioneus his tears restrain, But Actor and Idaeus jointly sent, To bear the madding mother to her tent.
And, as young striplings whip the top for sport, On the smooth pavement of an empty court; The wooden engine flies and whirls about, Admir’d, with clamors, of the beardless rout; They lash aloud; each other they provoke, And lend their little souls at ev’ry stroke: Thus fares the queen; and thus her fury blows Amidst the crowd, and kindles as she goes.
The town is fill’d with tumult and with tears, Till the loud clamors reach Evander’s ears: Forgetful of his state, he runs along, With a disorder’d pace, and cleaves the throng; Falls on the corpse; and groaning there he lies, With silent grief, that speaks but at his eyes.
"I heard; and Heav’n, that well-born souls inspires, Prompts me thro’ lifted swords and rising fires To run where clashing arms and clamor calls, And rush undaunted to defend the walls.
…By huntsmen and their eager hounds oppos’dHe whets his tusks, and turns, and dares the war; Th’ invaders dart their jav’lins from afar: All keep aloof, and safely shout around; But none presumes to give a nearer wound: He frets and froths, erects his bristled hide, And shakes a grove of lances from his side: Not otherwise the troops, with hate inspir’d, And just revenge against the tyrant fir’d, Their darts with clamor at a distance drive, And only keep the languish’d war alive.