1 Most does good Aeneas inly wail the loss now of valiant Orontes, now of Amycus, the cruel doom of Lycus, of brave Gyas, and brave Cloanthus.
2 Above all the hapless Phoenician, victim to coming doom, cannot satiate her soul, but, stirred alike by the boy and the gifts, she gazes and takes fire.
3 Even then Cassandra opens her lips to the coming doom, lips at a god's bidding never believed by the Trojans.
4 Thus lord Aeneas with all attent retold alone the divine doom and the history of his goings.
5 Anna, I will confess it; since Sychaeus mine husband met his piteous doom, and our household was shattered by a brother's murder, he only hath touched mine heart and stirred the balance of my soul.
6 Then indeed, hapless and dismayed by doom, Dido prays for death, and is weary of gazing on the arch of heaven.
7 Yet Aeneas, dismayed by her cruel doom, follows her far on her way with pitying tears.
8 But me my fate and the Laconian woman's murderous guilt thus dragged down to doom; these are the records of her leaving.
9 Imprisoned they await their doom.
10 Seek not to be told that doom, that fashion of fortune wherein they are sunk.
11 In no wise am I dismayed by those divine oracles of doom the Phrygians insolently advance.
12 And now no rumour of the dreadful loss, but a surer messenger flies to Aeneas, telling him his troops are on the thin edge of doom; it is time to succour the routed Teucrians.
13 But since bitter doom is upon her, up, glide from heaven, O Nymph, and seek the Latin borders, where under evil omen they join in baleful battle.
14 Then Arruns, due to his doom, circles in advance of fleet Camilla with artful javelin, and tries how fortune may be easiest.
15 Now I see him joining battle with unequal fates, and the day of doom and deadly force draws nigh.