adjuring Latinus. Turnus is on the spot, and, in the fury 5
and fire of the blood-cry, sounds again and again the note
of terror: “The Teucrians are invited to reign in Latium;
a Phrygian shoot is to be grafted on the royal tree; the
palace-gate is closed on himself.” Moreover, the kinsmen
of the matrons, who in Bacchic madness are footing the 10
pathless woods—for Amata’s name weighs not lightly—muster
from all sides, and strain the throat of Mars to
hoarseness. All at once, defying omens and oracles,
under the spell of a cursed deity, they clamour for an