Each champs with foaming mouth a chain of glittering gold.

XXXVIII. A car he orders for the Dardan sire,
And twin-yoked coursers of ethereal seed,
Whose snorting nostrils breathe the flames of fire.
Half-mortal, half-immortal was each steed,
The bastard birth of that celestial breed,
Which cunning Circe from a mortal mare
Raised to her sire the Sun-god. So with speed
The mounted Trojans to their prince repair,
Pleased with the gifts and words, for peaceful news they bear.

XXXIX. Lo! from Inachian Argos through the skies
Jove's consort her avenging flight pursues,
And far off, from Pachynus, as she flies
O'er Sicily, beholds the Dardan crews
And great AEneas, gladdening at the news.
The rising settlement, the new-tilled shore,
The ships deserted for the land she views,
And shaking her imperial brows, and sore
With anguish, from her breast these wrathful words doth pour:

XL. "Ah, hateful race! Ah, Phrygian fates abhorred!
What, fell they not on the Sigean plain?
Must captives be twice captured? Have the sword
And flames of Troy avenged me but in vain?
Have foes and fire found passage for the slain?
Sooth, then, my godhead sleepeth, and that hand
Is tired of hate, which whilom o'er the main
Dared chase these outcasts and their paths withstand,