Such were the words she spake to them. But now those mothers, at the first doubtful, with evil eyes Gazed on the ships awhile between unhappy craving stayed For land they stood on, and the thought of land that Fortune bade: When lo! with even spread of wings the Goddess rose to heaven, And in her flight the cloudy lift with mighty bow was riven. Then, wildered by such tokens dread, pricked on by maddened hearts, Shrieking they snatch the hearthstone's fire and brand from inner parts; While some, they strip the altars there, and flaming leaf and bough 661 Cast forth: and Vulcan, let aloose, is swiftly raging now Along the thwarts, along the oars, and stems of painted fir. But now with news of flaming ships there goes a messenger, Eumelus, to Anchises' tomb, and theatre-seats, and they Look round themselves and see the soot black in the smoke-cloud play. Then first Ascanius, e'en as blithe the riding-play he led, So eager now he rode his ways to camp bewilderèd, And nowise might they hold him back, his masters spent of breath. "O what new madness then is this? What, what will ye?" he saith. "O wretched townswomen, no foe, no camp of Argive men 671 Ye burn, but your own hopes ye burn. Lo, your Ascanius then!" Therewith before their feet he cast his empty helm afar, Dight wherewithal he stirred in sport that image of the war. And thither now Æneas sped, and crowd of Teucrian folk; Whereat the women diversely along the sea-shore broke, Fleeing afeard, and steal to woods and whatso hollow den, And loathe their deed, and loathe the light, as changed they know again Their very friends, and Juno now from every heart is cast. But none the less the flaming rage for ever holdeth fast 680 With might untamed; the fire lives on within the timbers wet, The caulking sends forth sluggish smoke, the slow heat teeth doth set Upon the keel; to inmost heart down creeps the fiery bale; Nor all the might of mighty men nor rivers poured avail. Then good Æneas from his back the raiment off him tore, And called the Gods to aid, and high his palms to heaven upbore: "Great Jove, if not all utterly a hater thou art grown Of Trojan folk, and if thy love of old yet looketh down On deeds of men, give to our ships to win from out the flame, O Father, now, and snatch from death the feeble Teucrian name, 690 Or else thrust down the remnant left, if so we merit aught, With bolt of death, and with thine hand sweep us away to nought!"