And Juno gave the war the final touches. The shepherds came to the city from the battle, Bearing young Almo, slain, and old Galaesus, His peaceful face defiled; they cry to the gods, They call on King Latinus. Turnus is there, As they cry murder, fuel to their fire, Making their terror double: _the kingdom falls To the men of Troy_, he shouts; _our blood is tainted; I am degraded here!_ And the Latin mothers, Trooping the pathless woods in Bacchic orgies, Amata’s cause being their cause, assemble From every side; it is Mars for whom they clamor, Not Bacchus any more. And all the people, Against the omens, against the will of the gods, Cry out for wicked war. They fight each other, Almost, to siege and storm Latinus’ palace. He is a rock in the sea; he stands like a sea-rock When a crash of water comes, and it is steadfast Against the howl of the waves, and the roar is useless, And the sea-weed, flung at the side, goes dripping back. But even so Latinus could not conquer Their blind determination. Things were going As Juno willed. He invoked the empty air, He invoked the gods, in vain. “Alas, we are broken! We are broken by fate, we are swept away by storm. You will pay for this, you will pay for it with bloodshed, O my poor people! And punishment is waiting, Turnus, for you; you will find it very bitter, And then you will pray, and it will be too late. My rest is won, my voyage almost over; I lose a happy death.” He said no more, Shut himself in his palace, and relinquished The reins of power.