He spake, and bade choose horses out from all his noble tale, Whereof three hundred sleek and fair stood in the stables high: These biddeth he for Teucrian men be led forth presently, Wing-footed purple-bearing beasts, with pictures o'er them flung Of woven stuff, and, on their breasts are golden collars hung: Gold-housed are they, and champ in teeth the yellow-golden chain But to Æneas, absent thence, a car and yoke-beasts twain 280 He sends: the seed of heaven are they, and breathing very fire, The blood of those that Circe stole when she beguiled her sire, That crafty mistress, winning them, bastards, from earthy mare. So back again Æneas' folk high on their horses fare, Bearing Latinus' gifts and words, and all the tale of peace. But lo, where great Jove's bitter wife comes from the town of Greece, From Argos wrought of Inachus, and holds the airy way. Far off she sees Æneas' joy, and where the ship-host lay Of Dardans: yea from Sicily and far Pachynus head She seeth him on earth at last and raising roofèd stead, 290 And all the ships void: fixed she stood, smit through with bitter wrath, And shook her head: then from her breast the angry words came forth: "Ah, hated race! Ah, Phrygian fates that shear my fates atwain! Was there no dead man's place for you on that Sigean plain? Had ye no might to wend as slaves? gave Troy so poor a flame To burn her men, that through the fire and through the swords ye came? I think at last my godhead's might is wearied and gone by, That I have drunk enough of hate, and now at rest may lie:-- I, who had heart to follow up those outcasts from their land, And as they fled o'er all the sea still in their path would stand. 300 Against these Teucrians sea and sky have spent their strength for nought: Was Syrtes aught, or Scylla aught, or huge Charybdis aught? Lo now the longed-for Tiber's breast that nation cherisheth Safe from the deep and safe from me: while Mars might do to death Those huge-wrought folk of Lapithæ: the very Father-God Gave up the ancient Calydon to Dian's wrath and rod. What was the guilt of Lapithæ? what crime wrought Calydon? But I, the mighty spouse of Jove, who nought have left undone My evil hap might compass, I who ran through all craft's tale Am vanquished of Æneas now. But if of no avail 310 My godhead be, I will not spare to pray what is of might, Since Heaven I move not, needs must I let loose the Nether Night. Ah! say it is not fated me the Latin realm to ban, Lavinia must be fated wife of this same Trojan man, Yet may I draw out time at least, and those great things delay; At least may I for either king an host of people slay: For father and for son-in-law shall plenteous price be paid, With Trojan and Rutulian blood shalt thou be dowered, O maid;