He is rushing into the shrine with drawn sword when suddenly Venus appears before him. _Venus_ (594-620): What grief inflames thee to this boundless wrath? What madness this, my son? And whither, pray, Has fled thy care for us? Bethink thee, first, Where thou hast left thy father, spent with age; Whether thy wife, Creüsa, still survives; Bethink thee of Ascanius thy son. For they are hemmed about on every side By hostile Greeks; but for my shielding care, Already would the flames have swept them off, And swords of enemies have drunk their blood. ‘Tis not the beauty of the Spartan queen That should arouse thy hate, nor shouldst thou blame Thy kinsman, Paris; for the cruel gods, The gods, I say, have laid thy city low, And overthrown the lofty walls of Troy. Behold—for I will straight remove the mist Which, dense and clinging, clouds thy mortal sight; Do thou but be obedient to my words;— Here, where thou seest huge masses overthrown, Rocks torn from rocks, commingled smoke and dust, Great Neptune with his trident’s fearful stroke Causes the walls to rock upon their base. Here Juno, first of all, with savage mien, Besets the Scæan gates, and, girt with steel, In fury calls her allies from the ships. Now turn thine eyes unto the citadel, And there behold Tritonian Pallas stand, All blazing with the war-cloud’s lurid glare, And that fell Gorgon’s head. Nay Jove himself Inspires the Greeks with courage, gives them strength, And whets the gods against the Trojans’ arms. Betake thee then to flight and end thy toils. For I will never leave thee, till at last I bring thee safely to thy father’s house. Æneas, overcome by these revelations, and resigned to fate, retires. ACT III ACT III. SCENE 1 The _atrium_ in the palace of Æneas. The aged Anchises lies prone upon the couch. Creüsa, Ascanius, and other members of the household are huddled together in the same room, listening in awestruck silence to the confused sounds of battle without. The room is lit by the red glare of burning buildings. Enter Æneas, breathless with his haste. _Æneas_, going up to his father and attempting to lift him in his arms (635, 636): O father, all is lost; come, flee with me, While still the fates and angry gods allow; Come, let me bear thee on my shoulders broad Unto the shelter of Mount Ida’s slopes. _Anchises_, resisting (637-649):