Then, steeped in venom's direst gall,
Alecto spreads her wing
For Latium and the stately hall
Of the Laurentian king,
Alights, and sits her down before
Amata's silent chamber-door:
Who, musing on the new-come host
And Turnus' hopes malignly crossed,
Was seething o'er, unhappy queen,
With woman's passion, woman's spleen.
The goddess snatched a serpent, bred
'Mid the dark ringlets of her head,
And hurled it at the dame,
That she, made frantic by the smart
Deep working in her inmost heart,
Might set the house in[errata 1] flame.
In glides the snake, unfelt, unseen,
Thin robe and ivory breast between,
And breathing in its poisonous breath,
Enwraps her in a dream of death:
Now with her golden necklace blends,
Now from her fillet's length depends,
With serpent gold her tresses binds,
And smoothly round her person winds.
So, when the viperous influence
Is first distilling o'er the sense,
Nor yet the soul has caught entire
The fever of contagious fire,
Gently, as mother might, she speaks,
The hot tears rolling down her cheeks,
Tears for her hapless daughter shed
And Phrygia's hated bridal bed:
'And shall a Dardan fugitive,
O father, with Lavinia wive?
And will you not compassion take
For daughter's, sire's, or mother's sake?
