e main,
And driven afar upon an alien strand.
At once, 'twixt joy and terror rent in twain,
Amazed, AEneas and Achates stand,
And long to greet old friends and clasp a comrade's hand.

LXVIII. Yet wildering wonder at so strange a scene
Still holds them mute, while anxious thoughts divide
Their doubtful minds, and in the cloud unseen,
Wrapt in its hollow covering, they abide
And note what fortune did their friends betide,
And whence they come, and why for grace they sue,
And on what shore they left the fleet to bide,
For chosen captains came from every crew,
And towards the sacred fane with clamorous cries they drew.

LXIX. Then, audience granted, as the fane they filled,
Thus calmly spake the eldest of the train,
Ilioneus: "O queen, whom Jove hath willed
To found this new-born city, here to reign,
And stubborn tribes with justice to refrain,
We, Troy's poor fugitives, implore thy grace,
Storm-tost and wandering over every main,--
Forbid the flames our vessels to deface,
Mark our afflicted plight, and spare a pious race.

LXX. "We come not hither with the sword to rend
Your Libyan homes, and shoreward drive the prey.
Nay, no such violence our thoughts intend,
Such pride suits not the vanquished. Far away
There lies a place--Greeks style the land to-day
Hesperia--fruitful and of ancient fame
And strong in arms. OEnotrian folk, they say,
First tilled the soil. Italian is the name
Borne by the later race, with Italus who came.

LXXI. "Thither we sailed, when, rising with the wave,
Orion dashed us on the shoals, the prey
Of wanton winds, and mastering billows drave
Our vessels on the pathless rocks astray.
We few have floated to your shore. O say,
What manner of mankind is here? What land
Is this, to treat us in this barbarous way?
They grudge the very shelter of the sand,
And call to arms and bar our footsteps from the strand!

LXXII. "If human kind and mortal arms ye scorn,
Think of the Gods, who judge the wrong and right.
A king was ours, AEneas; ne'er was born
A man more just, more valiant in the fight,
More famed for piety and deeds of might.
If yet he lives and looks upon the sun,
Nor cruel death hath snatched him from the light,
No fear have we, nor need hast thou to shun
A Trojan guest, or rue kind offices begun.

LXXIII. "Towns yet for us in Sicily