But when afar Juturna knew the Dread One's whirring wings, The hapless sister tears her hair and loose its tresses flings, 870 Fouling her face with tearing nails, her breast with beat of hand. "How may my help, O Turnus, now beside my brother stand? How may I harden me 'gainst this? by what craft shall I stay Thy light of life? how cast myself in such a monster's way? Now, now I leave the battle-field; fright not the filled with fear, O birds of ill! full well I know your flapping wings in air, And baneful sound. Thy mastering will I know it holdeth good, O Jove the great!--was this the gift thou gav'st for maidenhood? Why give me everlasting life, and death-doom take away? O, but for that my sorrows sore now surely might I slay, 880 And wend beside my brother now amid the nether Night. Am I undying? ah, can aught of all my good delight Without thee, O my brother lost! O Earth, gape wide and well, And let a Goddess sink adown into the deeps of hell!" So much she said, and wrapped her round with mantle dusky-grey, And, groaning sore, she hid herself within the watery way. But forth Æneas goes, and high his spear he brandisheth, A mighty tree, and from his heart grown fell a word he saith: "And wherewith wilt thou tarry me? hangs Turnus back again? No foot-strife but the armèd hand must doom betwixt us twain. 890 Yea, turn thyself to every shape, and, gathering everything Wherewith thine heart, thy craft is strong, go soaring on the wing, And chase the stars; or deep adown in hollow earth lie stored." But Turnus shakes his head and saith: "'Tis not thy bitter word That frights me, fierce one; but the Gods, but Jove my foeman grown."