This king was Ammon’s son, a child of rape Begotten on a nymph from Garamantia; He owned wide kingdoms, had a hundred altars Blazing with fires to Jove, eternal outposts In the gods’ honor; the ground was fat with blood, The temple portals blossoming with garlands. He heard the bitter stories, and went crazy, Before the presences of many altars Beseeching and imploring:--“Jove Almighty, To whom the Moorish race on colored couches Pours festive wine, do you see these things, or are we A pack of idiots, shaking at the lightning We think you brandish, when it is really only An aimless flash of light, and silly noises? Do you see these things? A woman, who used to wander Around my lands, who bought a little city, To whom we gave some ploughland and a contract, Disdains me as a husband, takes Aeneas To be her lord and master, in her kingdom, And now that second Paris, with his lackeys, Half-men, I call them, his chin tied up with ribbons, With millinery on his perfumed tresses, Takes over what he stole, and we keep bringing Gifts to your temples, we, devout believers Forsooth, in idle legend.” And Jove heard him Making his prayer and clinging to the altars, And turned his eyes to Carthage and the lovers Forgetful of their better reputation. He summoned Mercury:--“Go forth, my son, Descend on wing and wind to Tyrian Carthage, Speak to the Trojan leader, loitering there Unheedful of the cities given by fate. Take him my orders through the rapid winds: It was not for this his lovely mother saved him Twice from Greek arms; she promised he would be A ruler, in a country loud with war, Pregnant with empire; he would sire a race From Teucer’s noble line; he would ordain Law for the world. If no such glory moves him, If his own fame and fortune count as nothing, Does he, a father, grudge his son the towers Of Rome to be? What is the fellow doing? With what ambition wasting time in Libya? Let him set sail. That’s all; convey the message.”