XLI. "Have sea and sky been wielded to destroy, Nor Syrtes yet, nor Scylla's fierce embrace, Nor vast Charybdis whelmed the sons of Troy, Who, safe in Tiber, flout me to the face? Yet Mars from earth, and for a less disgrace Could sweep the Lapithae, and Heaven's great Sire Doomed ancient Calydon and OEneus' race To rue the vengeance of Diana's ire. Did ever crime of theirs the Dardans' meed require? XLII. "But I, Jove's consort, who have stooped to seek All shifts, all ventures and devices, I Am vanquished by AEneas! If too weak Myself, some other godhead will I try, And Hell shall hear, if Heaven its aid deny. Grant that these Dardans must in Latium reign, That fixt and changeless stands the doom, whereby His bride shall be Lavinia, that in vain Can Juno thwart whate'er the Destinies ordain; XLIII. "Yet time delayed can make occasion lost, Yet mutual strife each nation may devour, And Kings plight marriage at their peoples' cost. Troy's blood and Latium's, maiden, be thy dower. Bellona lights thee to thy bridal bower. Not only Hecuba--Ah, sweet the joy!-- Conceives a firebrand. Born in evil hour, The child of Venus shall her hopes destroy, And, like another Paris, fire a new-born Troy." XLIV. She spake, and earthward darting, fierce and fell, Calls sad Alecto from her dark retreat Among the Furies in the shades of Hell. Sweet are war's sorrows to her soul, and sweet Are evil deeds, and hatred and deceit. E'en Pluto, e'en her sister-fiends detest The monstrous shape, so many forms complete The grisly horrors of that hateful pest, So many a coal-black snake sprouts from her threatening crest. XLV. Her Juno finds, and thus new rage inspires: "Grant, virgin daughter of eternal Night, This boon, the labour that thy soul desires. Lest here my fame and honour lose their might, And Troy gain Italy, and craft unite Troy's prince with Latium's heiress. Thou can'st turn Fond hearts to feuds, and brethren arm for fight. Thou know'st, for savage is thy mood and stern, To breed domestic strife and happy homes to burn. XLVI. "A thousand names, a thousand means hast thou Of mischief. Search thy fertile breast, and break The plighted peace. Breed calumnies, and sow The strife. Let youth desire, demand and take Thy weapons."--Wreathed with many a Gorgon snake, To Latium's court Alecto flew unseen, And by Amata's chamber sate, nor spake; While, musing on her new-come guests, the queen, Wroth for her Turnus, boiled with woman's rage and spleen.