P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid
Theodore C. Williams, Ed.

But Juno, peering from that summit proud
which is to-day the Alban (though that time
nor name nor fame the hallowed mountain knew),
surveyed the plain below and fair array
of Trojan and Laurentine, by the walls
of King Latinus. Whereupon straightway
with Turnus' sister she began converse,
goddess with goddess; for that nymph divine
o'er Alba's calm lakes and loud rivers reigns;
Jove, the high monarch of th' ethereal sky,
gave her such glory when he stole away
her virgin zone. “O nymph“, she said, “who art
the pride of flowing streams, and much beloved
of our own heart! thou knowest thou alone
hast been my favorite of those Latin maids
that to proud Jove's unthankful bed have climbed;
and willingly I found thee place and share
in our Olympian realm. So blame not me,
but hear, Juturna, what sore grief is thine:
while chance and destiny conceded aught
of strength to Latium's cause, I shielded well
both Turnus and thy city's wall; but now
I see our youthful champion make his war
with fates adverse. The Parcae's day of doom
implacably impends. My eyes refuse
to Iook upon such fight, such fatal league.
If for thy brother's life thou couldst be bold
to venture some swift blow, go, strike it now!
'T is fit and fair! Some issue fortunate
may tread on sorrow's heel.” She scarce had said,
when rained the quick tears from Juturna's eyes.
Three times and yet again her desperate hand
smote on her comely breast. But Juno cried,
“No tears to-day! But haste thee, haste and find
what way, if way there be, from clutch of death
to tear thy brother free; arouse the war;
their plighted peace destroy. I grant thee leave
such boldness to essay.” With this command
she left the nymph dismayed and grieving sore.