this impious jar?
What fear hath stirred them to provoke the war?
Fate in due course shall bring the destined hour,--
Foredate it not--when Carthage from afar
Her barbarous hordes through riven Alps shall pour,
To storm the towers of Rome, to ravage and devour.

III. "Then may ye rend, and ravage and destroy,
Then may ye glut your vengeance. Now forbear,
And plight this peaceful covenant with joy."
Thus Jove; but Venus of the golden hair,
Less brief, made answer: "Lord of earth and air!
O Father! Power eternal! whom beside
We know none other, to approach with prayer,
See the Rutulians, how they swell with pride;
See Turnus, puffed with triumph, borne upon the tide.

IV. "Their very walls the Teucrians shield no more.
Within the gates, amid the mounds the fray
Is raging, and the trenches float with gore,
While, ignorant, AEneas is away.
Is theirs no rest from leaguer--not a day?
Again a threatening enemy hangs o'er
A new-born Troy! New foemen in array
Swarm from AEtolian Arpi, and once more
A son of Tydeus comes, as dreadful as before.

V. "Ay, wounds are waiting for thine offspring still,
And mortal arms must vex her. List to me:
If maugre thee, and careless of thy will,
The Trojans sought Italia, let them be,
Nor aid them; let their folly reap its fee.
But if, oft called by many a warning sign
From Heaven and Hell, they followed thy decree,
Who then shall tamper with the doom divine,
Or dare to forge new Fates, or alter words of thine?

VI. "Why tell of grievances in days forepast,
The vessels burnt on Eryx' distant shore,
The tempest's monarch, and the raging blast
Stirred in AEolia, and the winds' uproar,
And Iris, heaven-sent messenger? Nay more,
From Hell's dark depths she summons her allies,
The ghosts of Hades, overlooked before.
Through Latin towns, sent sudden from the skies,
Alecto wings her flight, and riots as she flies.

VII. "I reck not, I, of empire; once, indeed,
While fortune smiled, I hoped for it; but now
Theirs, whom thou choosest, be the victor's meed.
But if no land thy ruthless spouse allow
To Teucrian outcasts, hearken to me now:
O Father! by the latest hour of Troy,
By Ilion's smoking ruins, deign to show
Thy pity for Ascanius; spare my boy;
Safe let him cease from arms, my darling and my joy.

VIII. "Let brave AEneas fol