to goad the queen with the encircling Bacchic madness.

When their frenzy seemed heightened and her first task complete, the
purpose and all the house of Latinus turned upside down, the dolorous
goddess flies on thence, soaring on dusky wing, to the walls of the
gallant Rutulian, the city which Danae, they say, borne down on the
boisterous south wind, built and planted with Acrision's people. The
place was called Ardea once of old; and still Ardea remains a mighty
name; but its fortune is no more. Here in his high house Turnus now took
rest in the black midnight. Allecto puts off her grim feature and the
body of a Fury; she transforms her face to an aged woman's, and furrows
her brow with ugly wrinkles; she puts on white tresses chaplet-bound,
and entwines them with an olive spray; she becomes aged Calybe,
priestess of Juno's temple, and presents herself before his eyes,
uttering thus:

'Turnus, wilt thou brook all these toils poured out in vain, and the
conveyance of thy crown to Dardanian settlers? The King denies thee thy
bride and the dower thy blood had earned; and a foreigner is sought for
heir to the kingdom. Forth now, dupe, and face thankless perils; forth,
cut down the Tyrrhenian lines; give the [427-458]Latins peace in thy
protection. This Saturn's omnipotent daughter in very presence commanded
me to pronounce to thee, as thou wert lying in the still night.
Wherefore arise, and make ready with good cheer to arm thy people and
march through thy gates to battle; consume those Phrygian captains that
lie with their painted hulls in the beautiful river. All the force of
heaven orders thee on. Let King Latinus himself know of it, unless he
consents to give thee thy bridal, and abide by his words, when he shall
at last make proof of Turnus' arms.'

But he, deriding her inspiration, with the words of his mouth thus
answers her again:

'The fleets ride on the Tiber wave; that news hath not, as thou deemest,
escaped mine ears. Frame not such terrors before me. Neither is Queen
Juno forgetful of us. . . . But thee, O mother, overworn old age,
exhausted and untrue, frets with vain distress, and amid embattled kings
mocks thy presage with false dismay. Thy charge it is to keep the divine
image and temple; war and peace shall be in the hands of men and
warriors.'

At such words Allecto's wrath blazed out. But amid his utterance a quick
shudder overruns his limbs; his eyes are fixed in horror; so thickly
hiss the snak