painted ships. The dread voice of heaven speaks by me, 35
Nay, let king Latinus, unless he consent to give you your
bride and respect his promise, feel at last and find what
it is to have Turnus for a foe.”
Laughing scornfully at the old seer, the youth thus spoke
in reply: “The news that a fleet has arrived in the Tiber
has not, as you imagine, escaped my ear. Conjure me
no such mighty terrors, nor think that queen Juno has forgotten
me. No, it is you, good mother, whom mouldering 5
dotage, drained dry of truth, is vexing to no end, mocking