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Then may you give your hate its fill,
And rage and ravage as you will:
Now cease, and ratify with me
The covenant I will shall be.'

Thus briefly Jove: but not in brief
Gives Venus utterance to her grief:
'Dread lord of all above, below!
For other succour none we know
In this our trouble sore:
Seest thou how swells the Rutules' pride?
See Turnus in his triumph ride,
E'en on the crest of war's fierce tide,
And bid its billows roar!
No more their walls my Trojans shield:
The camp is changed to battle-field:
The trenches float with gore.
Our chief in ignorance bides away:
What? leav'st us not one peaceful day
From siege and leaguer free?
Once more there lowers o'er rising Troy
A spoiler, eager to destroy,
With myriads fierce as he:
And Tydeus' son once more is brought,
To fight, belike, as erst he fought.
Aye, sooth, I ween it is decreed
That Venus' wounds again shall bleed,
And I, thy child, too long delay
The spear that gores, but cannot slay.
If unsecured by leave from thee
Troy's sons have sailed to Italy,
Withdraw thine aid, and let them be,
To reap their folly's due:
But if thy mandates they obeyed
By many a warning voice conveyed
From heaven above and nether shade,