Struck with the sight, and seiz'd with rage divine, The matrons prosecute their mad design:
They shriek aloud; they snatch, with impious hands, The food of altars; fires and flaming brands.
Green boughs and saplings, mingled in their haste, And smoking torches, on the ships they cast.
The flame, unstopp'd at first, more fury gains, And Vulcan rides at large with loosen'd reins:
Triumphant to the painted sterns he soars, And seizes, in this way, the banks and crackling oars.
Eumelus was the first the news to bear, While yet they crowd the rural theater.
Then, what they hear, is witness'd by their eyes:
A storm of sparkles and of flames arise.
Ascanius took th' alarm, while yet he led His early warriors on his prancing steed, And, spurring on, his equals soon o'erpass'd;Nor could his frighted friends reclaim his haste.
Soon as the royal youth appear'd in view, He sent his voice before him as he flew:
"What madness moves you, matrons, to destroy The last remainders of unhappy Troy!
Not hostile fleets, but your own hopes, you burn, And on your friends your fatal fury turn.
Behold your own Ascanius!" While he said, He drew his glitt'ring helmet from his head, In which the youths to sportful arms he led.
By this, Aeneas and his train appear;
And now the women, seiz'd with shame and fear, Dispers'd, to woods and caverns take their flight, Abhor their actions, and avoid the light;Their friends acknowledge, and their error find, And shake the goddess from their alter'd mind.
Not so the raging fires their fury cease, But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace, Work on their way amid the smold'ring tow, Sure in destruction, but in motion slow.
The silent plague thro' the green timber eats, And vomits out a tardy flame by fits.
Down to the keels, and upward to the sails, The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails;Nor buckets pour'd, nor strength of human hand, Can the victorious element withstand.