atrocious war. With emulous zeal they swarm round 15
Latinus’ palace; he, like a rock in the sea, stands unshaken;
like a rock in the sea before the rush and crash of waters,
which, amid, thousands of barking waves, is fixed by its
own weight; the crags and the spray-foamed stones
roar about it in vain, and the lashed seaweed falls idly 20
from its side. But when he finds no power given him to
counterwork the secret agency, and all is moving at relentless
Juno’s beck, then with many an appeal to the gods
and the soulless skies, “Alas!” exclaims the good sire,