queen Amata,[245] who, as she mused on the arrival of the
Trojans and Turnus’ bridal hopes, was glowing and seething
with all a woman’s passion, a woman’s spleen. Snatching
a snake from her dark venomed locks, she hurls it at
her, and lodges it in the bosom close to the very heart, that, 15
maddened by the pest, she may drive the whole house wild.
In glides the reptile unfelt, winding between the robe and
the marble breast, and beguiles her into frenzy, breathing
into her lungs its viperous breath; the linked gold round
her neck turns to the monstrous serpent; so does the festoon 20