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Each night within his cotes were penned
Five flocks of sheep, five herds of cows,
And his broad lands from end to end
Were furrowed by a hundred ploughs.

While these are killing thus and killed,
The fiend, her promise now fulfilled,
Soon as the first hot blood is drawn
And war in thunder 'gins to dawn,
Up from Hesperia flies,
And riding on the rack of cloud,
Thus with triumphant voice and proud
To mighty Juno cries:
'Behold, 'tis finished! strife full-blown
Has issued forth in fight:
Now bid the hosts their hate atone
And friendly treaty plight.
The hands of Troy, thou seest, are dyed
Deep in Ausonian blood;
A guerdon I will add beside,
If so thy will holds good:
The neighbouring cities I will fill
With thick-sown rumours rife,
And wake in each unruly will
The frantic lust of strife,
Till aid they bring from every side,
And battle's seeds be scattered wide.'
Juno returns: 'Enough is spread
Of treachery and panic dread:
The roots of war are firmly set:
The fight is ragging hilt to hilt:
The arms that chance supplied are wet
With taint of carnage newly spilt.
Such be the hymenæal ties
That Venus' son shall solemnize
With Latium's easy king!