But when no might is given him their blindness to o'ercome, And by the road fell Juno would the matter must win home, Sore called the father on the Gods and emptiness of air: "Ah, broken by the Fates," he cried, "amid the storm we bear! Ye with your godless blood yourselves shall pay the penalty, Unhappy men! But Turnus, thou, thine ill deed bideth thee With woe enough, and overlate the Gods shalt thou adore. For me, my rest is gained, my foot the threshold passeth o'er; Yet is my happy ending spilled." Nor further would he say; But, hedged within his house, he cast the reins of rule away. 600 In Latium of the Westland world a fashion was whilome, Thence hallowed of the Alban folk, held holy thence by Rome, Earth's mightiest thing: and this they used what time soe'er they woke Mars unto battle; whether they against the Getic folk, Ind, Araby, Hyrcanian men, fashioned the woeful wrack, Or mid the dawn from Parthian men the banners bade aback. For twofold are the Gates of War--still bear they such a name-- Hallowed by awe of Mars the dread, and worship of his fame, Shut by an hundred brazen bolts, and iron whose avail Shall never die: nor ever thence doth door-ward Janus fail. 610 Now when amid the Fathers' hearts fast is the war-rede grown, The Consul, girt in Gabine wise, and with Quirinus gown Made glorious, doth himself unbar the creaking door-leaves great, And he himself cries on the war; whom all men follow straight, The while their brazen yea-saying the griding trumpets blare.