Haste! join with me! the unhappy fleet consume! Cassandra bids; and I declare her doom. In sleep I saw her; she supplied my hands (For this I more than dreamt) with flaming brands: 'With these, (said she,) these wandering ships destroy: } These are your fatal seats, and this your Troy.' } Time calls you now; the precious hour employ: } Slack not the good presage, while heaven inspires Our minds to dare, and gives the ready fires. See! Neptune's altars minister their brands: The god is pleased; the god supplies our hands." Then, from the pile, a flaming fir she drew, And, tossed in air, amidst the galleys threw. Rapt in amaze, the matrons wildly stare: Then Pyrgo, reverenced for her hoary hair, Pyrgo, the nurse of Priam's numerous race, "No Beroë this, though she belies her face! What terrors from her frowning front arise! Behold a goddess in her ardent eyes! What rays around her heavenly face are seen! Mark her majestic voice, and more than mortal mien! Beroë but now I left, whom, pined with pain, Her age and anguish from these rites detain." She said. The matrons, seized with new amaze, Roll their malignant eyes, and on the navy gaze. They fear, and hope, and neither part obey: They hope the fated land, but fear the fatal way. The goddess, having done her task below, Mounts up on equal wings, and bends her painted bow. Struck with the sight, and seized with rage divine, The matrons prosecute their mad design: They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands, The food of altars; firs and flaming brands, Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste, And smoking torches, on the ships they cast. The flame, unstopped at first, more fury gains, And Vulcan rides at large with loosened reins: Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars, And seizes, in his way, the banks and crackling oars. Eumelus was the first, the news to bear, While yet they crowd the rural theatre. Then, what they hear, is witnessed by their eyes: A storm of sparkles, and of flames, arise. Ascanius took the alarm, while yet he led His early warriors on his prancing steed, And, spurring on, his equals soon o'erpassed; Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste. Soon as the royal youth appeared in view, He sent his voice before him as he flew:-- "What madness moves you, matrons! to destroy The last remainders of unhappy Troy? Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn, And on your friends your fatal fury turn. Behold your own Ascanius!"--While he said, } He drew his glittering helmet from his head, } In which the youths to sportful arms he led. } By this, Æneas and his train appear; And now the women, seized with shame and fear, Dispersed, to woods and caverns take their flight, Abhor their actions, and avoid the light; Their friends acknowledge, and their error find,