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THE ÆNEID.

The armouries of air and main
Were loosed on Troy, and loosed in vain.
What vantaged me those powers of hurt,
Charybdis, Scylla, and the Syrt?
In Tiber's port they ride at ease
And laugh at Juno and her seas.
Yet Mars could sweep from earth's wide face
All vestige of the Lapith race:
Old Calydon the eternal Sire
Surrendered to Diana's ire:
What sin so grievous had they done,
The Lapith race or Calydon?
But I, the Thunderer's awful bride,
Who left, poor wretch, no art untried,
Who dared a thousand arms to wield,
Must yield, and to Æneas yield.
If strength like mine be yet too weak,
I care not whose the aid I seek:
What choice 'twixt under and above?
If Heaven be firm, the shades shall move.
Grant that I cannot bar the way
That leads him to his Latian sway,
That fixed in destiny must stand
The promise of Lavinia's hand:
Yet just it were events so great
For slow accomplishment should wait;
Yet may I make the monarchs twain
Each mourner for a nation slain.
So let them give and take them wives,
The wedding's cost their people's lives.
Behold your marriage dower, fair maid!
In Latium's blood and Troy's 't is paid:
Bellona at the appointed hour
Shall light you to your bridal bower.
Not Hecuba the only dame
Whose womb bore fruit in nuptial flame: