For such is heaven's command."--The youthful prince With scorn replied, and made this bold defence:-- "You tell me, mother, what I knew before, The Phrygian fleet is landed on the shore. I neither fear nor will provoke the war; My fate is Juno's most peculiar care. But time has made you dote, and vainly tell Of arms, imagined in your lonely cell. Go! be the temple and the gods your care; Permit to men the thought of peace and war." These haughty words Alecto's rage provoke, And frighted Turnus trembled as she spoke. Her eyes grow stiffened, and with sulphur burn; Her hideous looks and hellish form return; Her curling snakes with hissings fill the place, And open all the furies of her face: Then, darting fire from her malignant eyes, } She cast him backward as he strove to rise, } And, lingering, sought to frame some new replies. } High on her head she rears two twisted snakes; } Her chains she rattles, and her whip she shakes; } And, churning bloody foam, thus loudly speaks:-- } "Behold whom time has made to dote, and tell Of arms, imagined in her lonely cell! Behold the Fates' infernal minister! War, death, destruction, in my hand I bear." Thus having said, her smouldering torch, impressed With her full force, she plunged into his breast. Aghast he waked; and, starting from his bed, Cold sweat, in clammy drops, his limbs o'erspread.-- "Arms! arms!" he cries: "my sword and shield prepare!" He breathes defiance, blood, and mortal war. So, when with crackling flames a cauldron fries, The bubbling waters from the bottom rise: Above the brims they force their fiery way; Black vapours climb aloft, and cloud the day. The peace polluted thus, a chosen band He first commissions to the Latian land, In threatening embassy; then raised the rest, To meet in arms the intruding Trojan guest, To force the foes from the Lavinian shore, And Italy's endangered peace restore. Himself alone an equal match he boasts, To fight the Phrygian and Ausonian hosts. The gods invoked, the Rutuli prepare Their arms, and warm each other to the war. His beauty these, and those his blooming age, The rest his house and his own fame engage. While Turnus urges thus his enterprize, The Stygian Fury to the Trojans flies; New frauds invents, and takes a steepy stand, Which overlooks the vale with wide command; Where fair Ascanius and his youthful train, } With horns and hounds, a hunting match ordain, } And pitch their toils around the shady plain. } The Fury fires the pack; they snuff, they vent, And feed their hungry nostrils with the scent. 'Twas of a well grown stag, whose antlers rise High o'er his front, his beams invade the skies. From this light cause, the infernal maid prepares The country churls to mischief, hate, and wars.