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Twin horses of ethereal seed,
Their nostrils breathing flames of fire,
Derived from that clandestine breed
By Circe stolen from her sire.
So, cheered with gifts and courteous phrase,
The Trojans take their homeward ways,
And, mounted as they ride, report
A friendly welcome from the court.

Meantime from Argos journeying
The consort of the almighty King,
O'er far Pachynus as she flies,
Looks down in prospect from the skies:
She sees them in their hour of joy,
Æneas and the crews of Troy:
Already at their walls they toil,
And trust them to the friendly soil,
And leave the fleet behind:
She halts, by keenest anguish stung,
Shakes her dark brows, and thus gives tongue
To her infuriate mind:
'O thrice abhorred, accursed brood!
O Phrygian fates, with mine at feud!
And fell they on Sigean plain
Those all innumerable slain?
And were the captives truly ta'en
And were the bondmen bound?
The flame that fell on Ilium's tower,
Say, could it Ilium's sons devour?
Through circling fires and steely shower
Their passage have they found.
Aye, sooth, my arts have spent their strength;
My hate, full gorged, has slept at length—
I, who could hound them o'er the foam
When tossed and shaken from their home:
On every sea, 'neath every sky,
Where'er they turned them, there was I.