tle's face,
And turmoil everything once more, thou feedest hope in vain."

Then Juno weeping: "Ah, but if thy heart should give the gain
Thy voice begrudgeth! if 'twere doomed that he in life abide--
But ill-end dogs the sackless man, unless I wander wide 630
Away from sooth--Ah, yet may I be mocked of fear-wrought lies,
And may thy rede as thou hast might be turned to better wise."

She spake the word and cast herself adown from heaven the high,
Girt round with rain-cloud, driving on a storm amid the sky,
And that Laurentian leaguer sought and Ilium's hedge of fight.
And there she fashioned of the cloud a shadow lacking might:
With image of AEneas' shape the wondrous show is drest,
She decks it with the Dardan spear and shield, and mocks the crest
Of that all-godlike head, and gives a speech that empty flows,
Sound without soul, and counterfeits the gait wherewith he goes,-- 640
As dead men's images they say about the air will sweep,
Or as the senses weary-drenched are mocked with dreams of sleep.
But in the forefront of the fight war-merry goes the thing,
And cries the warrior on with words and weapons brandishing:
On whom falls Turnus, and afar hurleth his whizzing spear:
Then turns the phantom back about and fleeth as in fear.
Then verily when Turnus deemed he saw AEneas fled.
With all the emptiness of hope his headlong heart he fed:
"Where fleest thou, AEneas, then? why leave thy plighted bride? 649
This hand shall give thee earth thou sought'st so far across the tide."
So cries he following, brandishing his naked sword on high,
Nor sees what wise adown the wind his battle-bliss goes by.

By hap a ship was moored anear unto a ledgy stone,
With ladders out and landing-bridge all ready to let down,
That late the King Orsinius bore from Clusium o'er the sea;
And thereinto the hurrying lie, AEneas' shape, did flee,
And down its lurking-places dived: but Turnus none the more
Hangs back, but beating down delay swift runs the high bridge o'er.
Scarce on the prow, ere Juno brake the mooring-rope atwain,
And rapt the sundered ship away o'er back-draught of the main. 660
And there afar from fight is he on whom AEneas cries,
Still sending down to death's abode an host of enemies;
Nor any more the image then will seek his shape to shroud,
But flyi