Till Turnus, as at anchor fixed we stood,
Presumed to violate our holy wood.
}
{ Then, loosed from shore, we fled his fires profane,
{ (Unwillingly we broke our master's chain,)
{ And since have sought you through the Tuscan main.
The mighty Mother changed our forms to these,
And gave us life immortal in the seas.
But young Ascanius, in his camp distressed,
By your insulting foes is hardly pressed.