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Who dares to change thy firm decree
Or write the fates anew?
Why tell each bygone grievance o'er,
The fleet consumed on Eryx' shore,
The monarch of the storm called forth,
The winds unchained, East, West and North,
Or Iris sent from high?
Nay, e'en the ghosts beneath she tries
(O'erlooked till now those choice allies):
Through Latian towns Alecto flies,
And taints the upper sky.
'Tis not for empire now I fear:
That was a hope which once was dear,
But let it pass: our blood is spilt,
Yet give the victory where thou wilt.
But O, if yet thy cruel spouse
Will grant no land where Troy may house,
By Ilium's ruins I implore,
By that last agony she bore,
Release Ascanius from the strife,
And let my grandson scape with life!
His sire may roam on unknown seas,
And drift where fate or fortune please:
But let me snatch the child away
And save him from yon bloody fray.
Paphos and Amathus are mine,
And high Cythera's bower:
There let him live, his arms resign,
Nor dream the dream of power.
On Italy let Carthage frown,
He shall not vex your Tyrian town.
What profit to have scaped the fight
And won his way in venturous flight
Through foe and fire and sword,
The rage of land and ocean spent,
While Troy on Latium still is bent,
And hopes her towers restored?