length of time softens, no piety of man, unconquered and unsilenced
by Jove’s behest, by destiny itself. It is not enough 5
that her monstrous malice has torn the heart from the breast
of Phrygia,[o] and dragged a city through an infinity of vengeance—the
remnants of Troy, the very ashes and bones
of the slain—these she pursues; rage so fiendish let her
trace to its source. Thou thyself canst bear me witness 10
but now in the Libyan waters, what mountains she raised
all in a moment—all ocean she confounded with heaven,
blindly relying on Æolus’ storms to convulse a realm where