Not men nor gods have known, and no race ever Will pay you equal honor.” And the goddess Gave her assent, was happy, changed her purpose, Left heaven and quit the cloud. This done, the father Formed yet another purpose, that Juturna Should leave her fighting brother. There are, men say, Twin fiends, or triple, sisters named the Furies, Daughters of Night, with snaky coils, and pinions Like those of wind. They are attendant spirits Before the throne of Jove and whet the fears Of sickly mortals, when the king of heaven Contrives disease or dreadful death, or frightens The guilty towns in war. Now he dispatches One of the three to earth, to meet Juturna, An omen visible; and so from heaven She flew with whirlwind swiftness, like an arrow Through cloud from bowstring, armed with gall or poison, Loosed from a Parthian quiver, cleaving shadows Swifter than man may know, a shaft no power Has power of healing over:--so Night’s daughter Came down to earth, and when she saw the Trojans And Turnus’ columns, she dwindled, all of a sudden, To the shape of that small bird, which, in the night-time, Shrills its late song, ill-omened, on the roof-tops Or over tombs, insistent through the darkness. And so the fiend, the little screech-owl, flying At Turnus, over and over, shrilled in warning, Beating the wings against the shield, and Turnus Felt a strange torpor seize his limbs, and terror Made his hair rise, and his voice could find no utterance. But when, far off, Juturna knew the Fury By whir of those dread wings, she tore her tresses, Clawed at her face, and beat her breast, all anguish Over her brother:--“What can a sister do To help you now, poor Turnus? What remains For me to bear? I have borne so much already. What skill of mine can make the daylight longer In your dark hour? Can I face such a portent? Now, now, I leave the battle-line forever. Foul birds, I fear enough; haunt me no further, I know that beat of the wings, that deadly whirring; I recognize, too well, Jove’s arrogant orders, His payment for my maidenhood. He gave me Eternal life, but why? Why has he taken The right of death away from me? I might have Ended my anguish, surely, with my brother’s, Gone, at his side, among the fearful shadows, But, no,--I am immortal. What is left me Of any possible joy, without my brother? What earth can open deep enough to take me, A goddess, to the lowest shades?” The mantle, Grey-colored, veiled her head, and the goddess, sighing, Sank deep from sight to the greyness of the river.