The gates of heaven unfold: Jove summons all The gods to council in the common hall. Sublimely seated, he surveys from far The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war, And all the inferior world. From first to last, The sovereign senate in degrees are placed. Then thus the almighty sire began:--"Ye gods, Natives or denizens of blest abodes! From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind, This backward fate from what was first designed? Why thus protracted war, when my commands Pronounced a peace, and gave the Latian lands? What fear or hope on either part divides Our heavens, and arms our powers on different sides? A lawful time of war at length will come, (Nor need your haste anticipate the doom,) When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome; Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains, And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains. Then is your time for faction and debate, For partial favour, and permitted hate. Let now your immature dissention cease; Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace." Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge; But lovely Venus thus replies at large:-- "O power immense! eternal energy! (For to what else protection can we fly?) Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare In fields, unpunished, and insult my care? How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, In shining arms triumphant on the plain? Even in their lines and trenches they contend, And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend: The town is filled with slaughter, and o'erfloats, With a red deluge, their increasing moats. Æneas, ignorant, and far from thence, Has left a camp exposed, without defence. This endless outrage shall they still sustain? Shall Troy renewed be forced and fired again? A second siege my banished issue fears, And a new Diomede in arms appears. One more audacious mortal will be found; And I, thy daughter, wait another wound. Yet, if, with fates averse, without thy leave, The Latian lands my progeny receive, Bear they the pains of violated law, And thy protection from their aid withdraw. But, if the gods their sure success foretell-- If those of heaven consent with those of hell, To promise Italy; who dare debate The power of Jove, or fix another fate? What should I tell of tempests on the main, Of Æolus usurping Neptune's reign? Of Iris sent, with Bacchanalian heat To inspire the matrons, and destroy the fleet? Now Juno to the Stygian sky descends, Solicits hell for aid, and arms the fiends. That new example wanted yet above-- An act that well became the wife of Jove! Alecto, raised by her, with rage inflames The peaceful bosoms of the Latian dames. Imperial sway no more exalts my mind; (Such hopes I had indeed, while heaven was kind,)