Virgil

So ran the speech. Burdened and sick at heart,

He feigned hope in his look, and inwardly

Contained his anguish.

And with a groan for that indignity

His spirit fled into the gloom below.

Fate will find a way.

The attempts to heal enflame the fever more.

Do the gods light this fire in our hearts

or does each man's mad desire become his god?

Fortune favors the bold.

Tell me, Muse, the causes of her anger. How did he violate the will of the Queen of the Gods? What was his offence? Why did she drive a man famous for his piety to such endless hardship and such suffering? Can there be so much anger in the hearts of the heavenly gods?

For these I set no limits, world or time,

But make the gift of empire without end.

Nor yet had the causes of her wrath, nor her hot resentment, faded from her soul. Deep-written in her heart the judgement of Paris remained, and the outrage to her slighted beauty.

Go no further down the road of hatred.

Severe conditions and the kingdom's youth

Constrain me to these measures, to protect

Our long frontiers with guards.

There is no salvation in war.