sat in a cloud watching the battle,
"How long wilt thou fight against fate? What purpose hast thou now in thy
heart? Was it well that Juturna--for what could she avail without thy
help?--should give back to Turnus his sword? Thou hast driven the men of
Troy over land and sea, and kindled a dreadful war, and mingled the song
of marriage with mourning. Further thou mayest not go."

And Juno humbly made answer, "This is thy will, great Father; else had I
not sat here, but stood in the battle smiting the men of Troy. And indeed
I spake to Juturna that she should help her brother; but aught else I know
not. And now I yield. Yet grant me this. Suffer not that the Latins should
be called after the name of Troy, nor change their speech, nor their garb.
Let Rome rule the world, but let Troy perish forever."

Then spake with a smile the Maker of all things, "Truly thou art a
daughter of Saturn, so fierce is the wrath of thy soul. And now what thou
prayest I give. The Italians shall not change name, nor speech, nor garb.
The men of Troy shall mingle with them, and I will give them a new
worship, and call them all Latins. Nor shall any race pay thee more honor
than they."

Then Jupiter sent a fury from the pit. And she took the form of a bird,
even of an owl that sitteth by night on the roof of a desolate house, and
flew before the face of Turnus and flapped her wings against his shield.
Then was Turnus stricken with great fear, so that his hair stood up and
his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. And when Juturna knew the sound
of the false bird what it was, she cried aloud for fear, and left her
brother and fled, hiding herself in the river of Tiber.

But AEneas came on, shaking his spear that was like unto a tree, and said,
"Why delayest thou, O Turnus? Why drawest thou back? Fly now if thou canst
through the air, or hide thyself in the earth." And Turnus made answer, "I
fear not thy threats, but the Gods and Jupiter, that are against me this
day." And as he spake he saw-a great stone which lay hard by, the landmark
of a field. Scarce could twelve chosen men, such as men are now, lift it
on their shoulders. This he caught from the earth and cast it at his
enemy, running forward as he cast. But he knew not, so troubled was he in
his soul, that he ran or that he cast, for his knees tottered beneath him
and his blood grew cold with fear. And the stone fell short, nor reached
the mark. Even as in a dream, when dull sleep is on