So Juno argued: the company of heaven Sided with one or the other, and the sound Was like the sound of winds caught in the forest, And sailors, listening, know that storms are coming. And Jupiter all-powerful, the ruler Of all the world, began, and with his word The lofty palace of the gods grew quiet, The earth’s foundations trembled, and the winds Were still, and the loud ocean hushed the waters. “Take these my words to heart; be sure to heed them. It is forbidden Ausonians and Trojans To join in concord; the arguments among you, It seems, will never end. Therefore I tell you, Whether a man is Trojan or Rutulian, Whatever luck he has to-day, whatever He hopes to have to-morrow, it does not matter. I treat them both the same. It may be fate, It may be Trojan foolishness and error That keeps the camp besieged: I do not judge. I hold Rutulians under obligation As well as Trojans. In every man’s beginning His luck resides, for good or ill. I rule All men alike. The fates will find the way.” And all Olympus trembled as he nodded And swore by the waters of his Stygian brother, The pitchy banks and the black seething torrent. There was no more talking. From his golden throne Jove rose, with gods and goddesses attending In deferential escort. In the meantime At every gate Rutulians drive, determined To bring down men with steel, ring walls with flame. The host of Troy is held inside, blockaded, With never a hope of flight. Wretched, they stand At the high towers, in vain; they are none too many To stretch the circle out. Imbrasus’ son, Asius, is there; Thymoetes; two young men, Assaracus’ sons; and Castor, and old Thymbris, In the front ranks; two brothers of Sarpedon, Clarus and Thaemon, with them; they came from Lycia. One man, with every ounce of strength, is heaving To lift a giant boulder, half a mountain: That would be Acmon, Clytius’ son: Lyrnesus, Their home, produced enormous men--a brother, Mnestheus, too, was something of a giant. So rocks are weapons of defense, and arrows, And darts, and balls of fire, and fighting men Are busy with them all, and the little Trojan, The pet of Venus, rightly so, was with them, Bare-headed, a handsome sight, a shining jewel Inlaid in yellow gold, or a medallion Of ivory in terebinth or boxwood; So shone Iulus, whose white neck and shoulders Seemed whiter where the blond hair fell, and the circlet Of gold made bright the golden hair. Ismarus Was there, an archer, whose shafts were dipped in poison, A warrior far from his Maeonian homeland Where Pactolus floods the fields with yellow gold. And Mnestheus was there; he had beaten Turnus The day before, and knew it, and was proud; And Capys fought beside him: his name was given