Latium be Latium still; let Alba reign And Rome's immortal majesty remain."Then thus the founder of mankind replies (Unruffled was his front, serene his eyes)"Can Saturn's issue, and heav'n's other heir, Such endless anger in her bosom bear?
Be mistress, and your full desires obtain;But quench the choler you foment in vain.
From ancient blood th' Ausonian people sprung, Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue.
The Trojans to their customs shall be tied:
I will, myself, their common rites provide;The natives shall command, the foreigners subside.
All shall be Latium; Troy without a name;And her lost sons forget from whence they came.
From blood so mix'd, a pious race shall flow, Equal to gods, excelling all below.
No nation more respect to you shall pay, Or greater off'rings on your altars lay."Juno consents, well pleas'd that her desires Had found success, and from the cloud retires.
The peace thus made, the Thund'rer next prepares To force the wat'ry goddess from the wars.
Deep in the dismal regions void of light, Three daughters at a birth were born to Night:
These their brown mother, brooding on her care, Indued with windy wings to flit in air, With serpents girt alike, and crown'd with hissing hair.
In heav'n the Dirae call'd, and still at hand, Before the throne of angry Jove they stand, His ministers of wrath, and ready still The minds of mortal men with fears to fill, Whene'er the moody sire, to wreak his hate On realms or towns deserving of their fate, Hurls down diseases, death and deadly care, And terrifies the guilty world with war.
One sister plague if these from heav'n he sent, To fright Juturna with a dire portent.
The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow, Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies, And drench'd in pois'nous juice, the sure destruction flies.
With such a sudden and unseen a flight Shot thro' the clouds the daughter of the night.
Soon as the field inclos'd she had in view, And from afar her destin'd quarry knew, Contracted, to the boding bird she turns, Which haunts the ruin'd piles and hallow'd urns, And beats about the tombs with nightly wings, Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings.
Thus lessen'd in her form, with frightful cries The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies, Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes.
A lazy chillness crept along his blood;
Chok'd was his voice; his hair with horror stood.
Juturna from afar beheld her fly, And knew th' ill omen, by her screaming cry And stridor of her wings.Amaz'd with fear, Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair.
"Ah me!" she cries, "in this unequal strife What can thy sister more to save thy life?
Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend In arms with that inexorable fiend?
Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night;The lashing of your wings I know too well, The sounding flight, and fun'ral screams of hell!
These are the gifts you bring from haughty Jove, The worthy recompense of ravish'd love!
Did he for this exempt my life from fate?
O hard conditions of immortal state, Tho' born to death, not privileg'd to die, But forc'd to bear impos'd eternity!
Take back your envious bribes, and let me go Companion to my brother's ghost below!
The joys are vanish'd: nothing now remains, Of life immortal, but immortal pains.
What earth will open her devouring womb, To rest a weary goddess in the tomb!"She drew a length of sighs; nor more she said, But in her azure mantle wrapp'd her head, Then plung'd into her stream, with deep despair, And her last sobs came bubbling up in air.
Now stern Aeneas his weighty spear Against his foe, and thus upbraids his fear:
"What farther subterfuge can Turnus find?
What empty hopes are harbor'd in his mind?
'T is not thy swiftness can secure thy flight;Not with their feet, but hands, the valiant fight.
