One sister plague if these from heav'n he sent, To fright Juturna with a dire portent.
The pest comes whirling down: by far more slow Springs the swift arrow from the Parthian bow, Or Cydon yew, when, traversing the skies, And drench'd in pois'nous juice, the sure destruction flies.
With such a sudden and unseen a flight Shot thro' the clouds the daughter of the night.
Soon as the field inclos'd she had in view, And from afar her destin'd quarry knew, Contracted, to the boding bird she turns, Which haunts the ruin'd piles and hallow'd urns, And beats about the tombs with nightly wings, Where songs obscene on sepulchers she sings.
Thus lessen'd in her form, with frightful cries The Fury round unhappy Turnus flies, Flaps on his shield, and flutters o'er his eyes.
A lazy chillness crept along his blood;
Chok'd was his voice; his hair with horror stood.
Juturna from afar beheld her fly, And knew th' ill omen, by her screaming cry And stridor of her wings.Amaz'd with fear, Her beauteous breast she beat, and rent her flowing hair.