Such endless anger in her bosom bear? Be mistress, and your full desires obtain; But quench the choler you foment in vain. From ancient blood, the Ausonian people, sprung, Shall keep their name, their habit, and their tongue: The Trojans to their customs shall be tied. } I will, myself, their common rites provide. } The natives shall command, the foreigners subside. } All shall be Latium; Troy without a name; And her lost sons forget from whence they came. From blood so mixed, a pious race shall flow, Equal to gods, excelling all below. No nation more respect to you shall pay, Or greater offerings on your altars lay." Juno consents, well pleased that her desires Had found success, and from the cloud retires. The peace thus made, the Thunderer next prepares To force the watery goddess from the wars. Deep in the dismal regions void of light, Three daughters, at a birth, were born to Night:[14] These their brown mother, brooding on her care, } Endued with windy wings to flit in air, } With serpents girt alike, and crowned with hissing hair. } In heaven the Diræ called, and still at hand, Before the throne of angry Jove they stand, His ministers of wrath, and ready still The minds of mortal men with fears to fill, Whene'er the moody sire, to wreak his hate On realms or towns deserving of their fate, Hurls down diseases, death, and deadly care, And terrifies the guilty world with war. One sister plague of these from heaven he sent, To fright Juturna with a dire portent. The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow, Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies, And drenched in poisonous juice, the sure destruction flies. With such a sudden, and unseen a flight, Shot through the clouds the daughter of the Night. Soon as the field inclosed she had in view, And from afar her destined quarry knew-- Contracted, to the boding bird she turns, Which haunts the ruined piles and hallowed urns, And beats about the tombs with nightly wings, Where songs obscene on sepulchres she sings. Thus lessened in her form, with frightful cries } The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies, } Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes. } A lazy chilness crept along his blood; Choked was his voice; his hair with horror stood. Juturna from afar beheld her fly, And knew the ill omen, by her screaming cry, And stridor of her wing. Amazed with fear, Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair. "Ah me!" she cries--"in this unequal strife, What can thy sister more to save thy life? Weak as I am, can I, alas! contend In arms with that inexorable fiend? Now, now, I quit the field! forbear to fright My tender soul, ye baleful birds of night!