LIX. "This mandate great Saturnia bade me bear, Thou sleeping. Up, then! greet the welcome hour; Arm, arm the youth, and from the towngates fare! These Phrygian vessels with the flames devour, Moored yonder in fair Tiber. 'Tis the power Of Heaven that bids thee. Let Latinus, too, If false and faithless he withhold the dower, And grudge thy marriage, learn the deed to rue, And taste at length and try what Turnus armed can do." LX. Then he in scorn: "Yea, Tiber's waves beset With foreign ships--I know it; wherefore feign For me such terrors? Juno guards me yet. Good mother, dotage wears thee, and thy brain Is rusty; age hath troubled thee in vain, And, 'midst the feuds of monarchs, mocks with fright A priestess. Go; 'tis thine to guard the fane And sacred statues; these be thy delight; Leave peace and war to men, whose business is to fight." LXI. Therewith in fire Alecto's wrath outbroke, A sudden tremor through his limbs ran fast, His stony eyeballs stiffened as he spoke. So hissed the Fury with her snakes, so vast Her shape appeared, so fierce the look she cast, As back she thrust him with her flaming eyes, Fain to say more, but faltering and aghast. Two serpents from her Gorgon locks uprise; Shrill sounds her scorpion lash, as, foaming, thus she cries: LXII. "Behold me, worn with dotage! me, whom age Hath rusted, and, while monarchs fight, would scare With empty fears! Behold me in my rage! I come, the Furies' minister; see there, War, death and havoc in these hands I bear." Full at his breast a firebrand, as she spoke, Black with thick smoke, but bright with lurid glare, The Fiend outflung. In terror he awoke, And o'er his bones and limbs a clammy sweat outbroke. LXIII. "Arms, arms!" he yells, and searches for his sword In couch and chamber, maddening at the core With war's fierce passion, and the lust abhorred Of slaughter, and with bitter wrath yet more. As when a wood-fire crackles with fierce roar, Heaped round a caldron, and the simmering stream Foams, fumes, and bubbles, and at last boils o'er, And upward shoots the mingled smoke and steam; So Turnus boils with wrath, so dire his rage doth seem. LXIV. Choice youths he sends, to let Latinus know The peace was torn, then musters his array To guard Italia and expel the foe. Let Trojans league with Latins as they may, Himself can match them, and he comes to slay. So saying, his vows he renders. Ardour fires The fierce Rutulians, and each hails the fray; And one his youth, and one his grace admires, And one his valorous deeds, and one his kingly sires.