And now, judging that she had barbed enough the young fangs of frenzy, upheaving from their bases the royal purpose and the royal house, the grim goddess next soars in air on her murky wings on to the walls of the bold 10 Rutulian, the city which they say Danae built for her Argive settlers, landing there under stress of wind. Ardea was the name which past generations gave the place, and Ardea still keeps her august title; but her star is set, Here, in his lofty palace, Turnus at deep of night was in 15 the midst of his sleep. Allecto puts off her hideous features and her fiendish shape, transforms herself to an old woman’s countenance and furrows her loathly brow with wrinkles, assumes hoary locks and woollen fillet, lastly twines them with an olive spray, and so becomes 20 Calybe, the aged priestess of Juno’s temple; and presents herself to the young warrior’s eyes with such words as these: “And can Turnus calmly see all his toils poured out in vain, and the crown that is his own transferred to settlers from Dardania? See, the king is refusing you your bride 25 and your blood-bought dowry, and search is being made for a foreign heir to fill the throne. Go on now, confront ungracious perils, and earn derision; go, mow down the Tuscan ranks, and spread over Latium the shield of peace. These very words Saturn’s almighty daughter with her 30 own lips bade me say to you when you should be slumbering in the still of night. Rise, then, bid your soldiery arm and move from city to camp, set fire to the Phrygian chiefs who have anchored in our fair river and to their painted ships. The dread voice of heaven speaks by me, 35 Nay, let king Latinus, unless he consent to give you your bride and respect his promise, feel at last and find what it is to have Turnus for a foe.” Laughing scornfully at the old seer, the youth thus spoke in reply: “The news that a fleet has arrived in the Tiber has not, as you imagine, escaped my ear. Conjure me no such mighty terrors, nor think that queen Juno has forgotten me. No, it is you, good mother, whom mouldering 5 dotage, drained dry of truth, is vexing to no end, mocking your prophetic soul with false alarms in an atmosphere of royal armaments. You are in your place watching over statues and temples; but war and peace must be wielded by men, whose work war is.” 10