ay, Arcadia's monarch, in a grove
Before the town, a solemn feast had planned
To Hercules and all the gods above.
His son, young Pallas, and a youthful band,
And humble senators around him stand,
Each offering incense, and the warm, fresh blood
Still smokes upon the shrines, when, hard at hand,
They see the tall ships, through the shadowy wood,
Glide up with silent oars along the sacred flood.

XV. Scared by the sudden sight, all quickly rise
And quit the board. But Pallas, bold of cheer,
Bids them not break the worship. Forth he flies
To meet the strangers, as their ships appear,
His right hand brandishing a glittering spear.
"Gallants," he hails them from a mound afar,
"What drove you hither by strange ways to steer?
Say whither wending? who and what ye are?
Your kin, and where your home? And bring ye peace or war?"

XVI. Then sire AEneas from the stern outheld
A branch of olive, and bespake him fair:
"Troy's sons ye see, by Latin pride expelled.
'Gainst Latin enemies these arms we bear.
We seek Evander. Go, the news declare:
Choice Dardan chiefs his friendship come to claim.
His aid we ask for, and his arms would share."
He ceased, and wonder and amazement came
On Pallas, struck with awe to hear the mighty name.

XVII. "Whoe'er thou art, hail, stranger," he replied,
"Step forth, and to my father tell thy quest,
And take the welcome that true hearts provide."
Forth as he leaped, the Dardan's hand he pressed,
And, pressing, held it, and embraced his guest.
So from the river through the grove they fare,
And reach the place, where, feasting with the rest,
They find Evander. Him with speeches fair
AEneas hails, and hastes his errand to declare.

XVIII. "O best of Greeks, whom thus with olive bough
Hath Fortune willed me to entreat; yet so
I shunned thee not, albeit Arcadian thou,
A Danaan leader, in whose veins doth flow
The blood of Atreus, and my country's foe.
My conscious worth, our ties of ancestry,
Thy fame, which rumour through the world doth blow,
And Heaven's own oracles, by Fate's decree,
My willing steps have led, and link my heart, to thee.

XIX. "Troy's founder, Dardanus, to the Teucrians came,
Child of Electra, so the Greeks declare.
Huge Atlas was Electra's sire, the same
Whose shoulders still the starry skies upbear.
Your sire is Mercur