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The land you sought for o'er the tide
This hand shall soon bestow.'
So clamouring, he pursues the quest
With brandished falchion bare,
Nor sees the transports of his breast
Are lavished on the air.
A ship stood fastened to the bank,
With steps let down and sloping plank,
The same which king Osinius bore
Across the sea from Clusium's shore.
Thither the feigned Æneas flies,
And cowering as in covert lies;
Turnus pursues, the bridge bestrides,
And scales the vessel's lofty sides.
Scarce on the prow his foot had stept,
Saturnia breaks the band;
The galley down the waves is swept
That ebb from off the strand:
While through the plain with baffled wrath
Æneas seeks his foe,
And hurries all that cross his path
To Dis and Death below.
And now no more the phantom hides,
But melts in air on high,
While Turnus o'er the ocean rides
Fast as his bark can fly.

Amazed, unthankful for escape,
He gazes on the fleeting shape,
And thus in wild remonstrance cries
With hands uplifted to the skies:
'And couldst thou deem, Almighty Sire,
Thy worshipper's offence so dire
To merit doom so sore?
Whence came I? whither am I borne?
And must I journey home in scorn,