behests; nor could I deem my going thence would bring on you distress so deep.

Stay your step and withdraw not from our view. Whom do you flee? This is the last word Fate suffers me to say to you.” With these words amid springing tears Aeneas strove to soothe the wrath of the fiery, fierce-eyed queen. She, turning away, kept her looks fixed on the ground and no more changes her countenance as he essays to speak than if she were set in hard flint or Marpesian rock. At length she flung herself away and, still his foe, fled back to the shady grove, where Sychaeus, her lord of former days, responds to her sorrows and gives her love for love. Yet none the less, stricken by her unjust doom, Aeneas attends her with tears afar and pities her as she goes.

Thence he toils along the way that offered itself.