arma procul currusque virum miratur inanis; stant terra defixae hastae, passimque soluti per campum pascuntur equi; quae gratia currum armorumque fuit vivis, quae cura nitentis pascere equos, eadem sequitur tellure repostos.
From afar he marvels at their phantom arms and chariots. Their lances stand fixed in the ground, and their unyoked steeds browse freely over the plain. The same pride in chariot and arms that was theirs in life, the same care in keeping sleek steeds, attends them now that they are hidden beneath the earth.