LXXXIII. Great Jove meanwhile to Juno spake and said,
"Sweet spouse and sister, thou hast deemed aright,
'Tis Venus, sure, who doth the Trojans aid,
Not courage, strength and patience in the fight."
Then Juno meekly: "Dearest, why delight
With cruel words to vex me, sad with fear
And sick at heart? Had still my love the might
It had and should have; were I still so dear,		739
Not thou, with all thy power, should'st then refuse to hear,
LXXXIV. "But safe should Turnus from the fight once more
Return to greet old Daunus. Be it so,
And let him die, and shed his righteous gore
To glut the vengeance of his Teucrian foe,
Albeit his name celestial birth doth show,
Fourth in succession from Pilumnus, yea,
Though oft his hand thy sacred shrines below
Hath heaped his gifts." She ended, and straightway		748
Brief answer made the Sire, who doth Olympus sway:
LXXXV. "If but a respite for the youth be sought,
A little time of tarrying, ere he die,
And thus thou read'st the purport of my thought,
Take then awhile thy Turnus; let him fly
And 'scape his present fates; thus far may I
Indulge thee. But if aught beneath thy prayer
Lie veiled of purpose or of hopes more high,
To change the war's whole aspect, then beware,		757
For idle hopes thou feed'st, as empty as the air."
LXXXVI. Then She with tears: "What if thy heart should give
The pledge and promise, that thy lips disdain,
And Turnus by thy warrant still should live?
Now death awaits him guiltless, or in vain
I read the Fates. Ah! may I merely feign
An empty fear, and better thoughts advise
Thee—for thou can'st—to spare him and refrain!"
So saying, arrayed in storm-clouds, through the skies		766
Down to Laurentum's camp and Ilian lines she flies.
LXXXVII. Then straight the Goddess from a hollow cloud—
Strange sight to see!—a thin and strengthless shade
Shaped like the great Æneas, and endowed
With Dardan arms, and fixed the shield, and spread
The plume and crest as on his godlike head.
And empty words, a soulless sound, she gave,
And feigned the fashion of the warrior's tread.
Thus ghosts are said to glide above the grave;		775
Thus oft delusive dreams the slumbering sense enslave.
LXXXVIII. Proud stalks the phantom, gladdening in the van,
With darts provokes him, and with words defies.
Forth rushed fierce Turnus, hurling as he ran
His whistling spear. The shadow turns and flies.
Then Turnus, glorying in his fancied prize,
"Where now, Æneas, from thy plighted bride?
The land thou soughtest o'er the deep, it lies
Here, and this hand shall give it thee." He cried,		784
And waved his glittering sword, and chased him, nor espied
LXXXIX. The winds bear off his triumph.—Hard at hand,
With steps let down and gangway ready laid,
Moored by the rocks, a vessel chanced to stand,
Which brave Osinius, Clusium's king, conveyed.
Here, as in haste, for shelter plunged the shade.
On Turnus pressed, and with a bound ascends
The lofty gangways, dauntless nor delayed.
The bows scarce reached, the rope Saturnia rends,		793
And down the refluent tide the loosened ship descends.
XC. Loud calls Æneas for his absent foe,
And many a hero-body—all who dare
To meet him—hurries to the shades below.
No more the phantom lingers in his lair,
But, soaring, melts into the misty air.
Turnus a storm-wind o'er the deep sea blows.
Backward he looks, and of events unware,
And all unthankful to escape his foes.		802
Up to the stars of heaven his hand and voice he throws.
XCI. "Great Sire, was I so guilty in thy sight,
To make thee deem such punishment my due?
Whence came I? Whither am I borne? What flight
Is this? and how do I return, and who?
Again Laurentum's city shall I view?
What of that band, who followed me, whom I—
Shame on me—left a shameful death to rue?
E'en now I see them scattered,—see them fly,—		811
And see them fall; and hear the groans of those that die.
XCII. "What am I doing? Where can Earth for me
Gape deep enough? Ye winds that round me roar,
Pity I crave, on rocks amid the sea—
'Tis Turnus, I, a willing prayer who pour—
Dash me this ship, or drive it on the shore,
'Mid ruthless shoals, where no Rutulian eyes
May see my shame, nor prying Fame explore."
Thus he, and, tost in spirit, as he cries,		820
This plan and that in turn his wavering thoughts devise: