Towers that were begun
Now cease to rise. The warrior youths no more
Engage in martial exercise; not ports
Nor bulwarks are prepared for war. All works
Hang uninterrupted, both the ramparts huge,
And scaffoldings that climbed toward the sky.
Dumb and bewildered at the vision then
Aeneas stood, with hair erect with fear,
And gasping voice. He burned to fly and leave
These pleasant regions, stunned by such command
And warning of the gods.
But good Aeneas, though he much desires
To calm and to console her in her grief
With soothing words, groans bitter, his heart
Shaken by love for her; but nonetheless
Prepares to execute the god’s command,
And to his fleet returns.
“Awake, my men, and quickly! Take your oars!
Unfurl your sails! A god was sent to me
From the high heaven to hasten our flight,
And cut our twisted ropes.”
Great Juno, Then,
Pitying her lingering agony and death,
Sent Iris from Olympus down to free
The struggling soul, and loose its mortal tie.
For since by fate she perished not, nor death
Deserved, but was made wretched before her time,