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,