Aeneid 1.137-41, Neptune chastising the winds for the storm they launched – at Juno’s order – against the Trojan fleet:
Hasten your flight and say these words to your king:
Not to him were the power over the sea and the fierce trident
given by lot – but to me. He has those huge rocks,
your home, Eurus; Let him vaunt himself in that hall
– Aeolus – and let him reign in his closed up prison of winds.
Maturate fugam, regique haec dicite vestro:
non illi imperium pelagi saevumque tridentem,
sed mihi sorte datum. Tenet ille immania saxa,
vestras, Eure, domos; illa se iactet in aula
Aeolus, et clauso ventorum carcere regnet.
Virgil can be so damning so succintly. And with such perfect word order and verbal juxtapositions: Aeolus + clausus (enclosed) + ventus (winds) + carcer (prison) + regnere (reign). The prison and its adjective enclose the winds. Aeolus and his verb enclose/rule the prison. And then the line ends leading up to regnere so perfectly draw out Neptune’s flow of irony – from his dismissive saxa (plain rocks) to mocking aula (grand hall, court, palace) to the very much cut down sense of the final verb regnere.