Now speedy death attends the guiltless youth,
If my presaging soul divines with truth;
Which, O! I wish, might err through causeless fears,
And you (for you have power) prolong his years!"
Thus having said, involved in clouds, she flies,
And drives a storm before her through the skies.
Swift she descends, alighting on the plain,
Where the fierce foes a dubious fight maintain.
Of air condensed, a spectre soon she made;
And, what Æneas was, such seemed the shade.