ed rock some hind,
Returning home, a swarm of bees hath found,
And all the nest with bitter smoke doth blind:
They, in their waxen citadel fast bound,
Post to and fro, the narrow cells around,
And whet their stings in fury and despair:
With stifled hum the caverned crags resound,
The black fumes search the windings of their lair,
And the dark smoke rolls up, and mingles with the air.

LXXVIII. A new mischance now smote with further woe
The Latin town, and fainting hearts dismayed.
As queen Amata sees the coming foe,
The ramparts stormed, their flames the roofs invade,
And nowhere Turnus nor his troops to aid,
Him dead she deems, herself the cause declares,
Herself alone she spares not to upbraid.
She wails,--she raves,--her purple robe she tears,
And from a lofty beam the hideous noose prepares.

LXXIX. The women heard; Lavinia first of all,
Her golden locks, her rosy cheeks doth tear.
All rave around, and wailings fill the hall.
Fast flies the news, and shakes the town with fear.
Then rends his robes Latinus in despair,
His town in ruins and his consort dead,
And, scattering dust upon his hoary hair,
Himself he blames, that ne'er in Turnus' stead
The Dardan prince he chose, his dear-lov'd child to wed.

LXXX. Meanwhile, in chase of distant stragglers, speeds
Fierce Turnus. Slacker is his car's career,
And less he glories in his conquering steeds,
When lo, the breezes from Laurentum bear
The sound of shouting, and the shrieks of fear,
And a dull murmur, as of men that groan,--
The city's roar--strikes on his listening ear.
"Ah me! what clamour on the winds is blown?
What noise of grief," he cries, "comes rolling from the town?"

LXXXI. He spake, and madly pulled the rein. Then she,
His sister, like Metiscus changed in view,
Who ruled the chariot, "Forward, Turnus! See
The path that victory points thee to pursue.
This way--this way to chase the Trojan crew!
Others there are, who can the walls defend,
See here AEneas, how he storms. We, too,
Our foes, Troy's varlets, to their graves can send,
Nor thee less tale of slain, nor scantier praise attend."

LXXXII. Then quickly answered Turnus, glancing round,
"Sister, long since I knew thee--knew thee plain,
When first thy cunning did the league confound,
And sent thee forth, fierce battle to darrain;
And no