So Venus makes an appeal to Love, her winged son: “You, my son, are my strength, my greatest power— you alone, my son, can scoff at the lightning bolts the high and mighty Father hurled against Typhoeus. Help me, I beg you. I need all your immortal force. Your brother Aeneas is tossed round every coast on earth, thanks to Juno’s ruthless hatred, as you well know, and time and again you’ve grieved to see my grief. But now Phoenician Dido has him in her clutches, 800 holding him back with smooth, seductive words, and I fear the outcome of Juno’s welcome here… She won’t sit tight while Fate is
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Superior images of an embodied metaphor.
