So pleading, and so weeping, she essayed To move the king; but when her prayers were vain, Nor tears Latinus from his purpose stayed, And now the viper with its deadly bane Crept to her inmost parts, and through each vein The maddening poison to her heartstrings stole, Then, scared by monstrous phantoms of the brain, Poor queen! she raved, and maddening past control, Ran through the crowded streets in impotence of soul.
LII.

Like as a whip-top by the lash is sent In widening orbs to spin, when lads among The empty courtyards urge their merriment; And, scourged in circling courses by the thong It wheels and eddies, while the beardless throng Bend over, lost in ignorant surprise, And marvel, as the boxwood whirls along, Stirred by each stroke; so fast Amata flies From street to street, while crowds look on with lowering eyes.
LIII.

Nay, simulating Bacchus, now she dares To feign new orgies, and her crime complete.
Swift with her daughter to the woods she fares, And hides her on the mountains, fain to cheat The Trojans, and the purposed rites defeat.
"Hail, thou alone art worthy of the fair! Evoe, Bacchus! for thy name is sweet.
For thee she grows her dedicated hair, For thee she leads the dance, the ivied wand doth bear." LIV.

The matrons then--so fast the rumour flew,-- Fired like the Queen, and frenzied with despair, Rush forth, and leave their ancient homes for new, And to the breezes give their necks and hair.
These with their tremulous wailings fill the air, And, girt about with fawn-skins, bear along The vine-branch javelins, and Amata there, Herself ablaze with fury, o'er the throng A blazing pine-torch waves, and chants the nuptial song LV.

Of Turnus and Lavinia.