So they fought together, And neither won,--Allecto had kept her promise: She had soaked the war in blood, she had made beginning Of death in battle. She left the western land, She soared to Juno in heaven, proud of her triumph:-- “There it is for you, perfect, war created From disagreement! Tell them to join in friendship, Let them make treaties, now my hand has spattered The Trojans with Ausonian blood! And still I can do more, if you desire it: cities Near-by, I can plague to war with rumors, burn them With wild desire for battle, bring in allies From everywhere; I will sow the land with armies.” But Juno answered:--“That is plenty, thank you; They can not stop it now; man battles man; Fresh blood is on the arms that chance first gave. Now let them stage that bridal feast, that wedding, Venus’ distinguished son, and king Latinus! Olympus’ ruler would be most unwilling To let you roam thus freely in the heavens; Be gone from here; whatever more is needed, I will attend to.” So spoke Saturn’s daughter, And the serpents hissed as the Fury raised her wings, Flew up, swooped down, to Hell. Under high hills In Italy’s heart, there lies a vale, Ampsanctus, Well known in many lands. Dark forests hide it On every side, and in its very centre A roaring torrent over the rocks goes brawling, And there is a cavern here, a breathing hole For terrible Dis, and a gorge, where Acheron river Opens the deadly jaws; and here Allecto Sank out of sight, relieving earth and heaven.
And Juno gave the war the final touches. The shepherds came to the city from the battle, Bearing young Almo, slain, and old Galaesus, His peaceful face defiled; they cry to the gods, They call on King Latinus. Turnus is there, As they cry murder, fuel to their fire, Making their terror double: _the kingdom falls To the men of Troy_, he shouts; _our blood is tainted; I am degraded here!_ And the Latin mothers, Trooping the pathless woods in Bacchic orgies, Amata’s cause being their cause, assemble From every side; it is Mars for whom they clamor, Not Bacchus any more. And all the people, Against the omens, against the will of the gods, Cry out for wicked war. They fight each other, Almost, to siege and storm Latinus’ palace. He is a rock in the sea; he stands like a sea-rock When a crash of water comes, and it is steadfast Against the howl of the waves, and the roar is useless, And the sea-weed, flung at the side, goes dripping back. But even so Latinus could not conquer Their blind determination. Things were going As Juno willed. He invoked the empty air, He invoked the gods, in vain. “Alas, we are broken! We are broken by fate, we are swept away by storm. You will pay for this, you will pay for it with bloodshed, O my poor people! And punishment is waiting, Turnus, for you; you will find it very bitter, And then you will pray, and it will be too late. My rest is won, my voyage almost over; I lose a happy death.” He said no more, Shut himself in his palace, and relinquished The reins of power.