arce was this said; next advancing he points out the altar and the
Carmental Gate, which the Romans call anciently by that name in honour
of the Nymph Carmentis, seer and soothsayer, who sang of old the coming
greatness of the Aeneadae and the glory of Pallanteum. Next he points
out the wide grove where valiant Romulus set his sanctuary, and the
Lupercal in the cool hollow of the rock, dedicate to Lycean Pan after
the manner of Parrhasia. Therewithal he shows the holy wood of
Argiletum, and calls the spot to witness as he tells the slaying of his
guest Argus. Hence he leads him to the Tarpeian house, and the Capitol
golden now, of old rough with forest thickets. Even then men trembled
before the wood and rock. 'This grove,' he cries, 'this hill with its
leafy crown, is a god's dwelling, though whose we know not; the
Arcadians believe Jove himself hath been visible, when often he shook
the darkening aegis in his hand and gathered the storm-clouds. Thou
seest these two towns likewise with walls overthrown, relics and
memorials of men of old. This fortress lord Janus built, this Saturn;
the name of this was once Janiculum, of that Saturnia.'

With such mutual words they drew nigh the house of poor Evander, and saw
scattered herds lowing on the Roman Forum and down the gay Carinae. When
they reached his dwelling, 'This threshold,' he cries, 'Alcides the
Conqueror stooped to cross; in this palace he rested. Dare thou, my
guest, to despise riches; mould thyself to [365-396]like dignity of
godhead, and come not exacting to our poverty.' He spoke, and led tall
Aeneas under the low roof of his narrow dwelling, and laid him on a
couch of stuffed leaves and the skin of a Libyan she-bear. Night falls
and clasps the earth in her dusky wings.

But Venus, stirred in spirit by no vain mother's alarms, and moved by
the threats and stern uprisal of the Laurentines, addresses herself to
Vulcan, and in her golden bridal chamber begins thus, breathing divine
passion in her speech:

'While Argolic kings wasted in war the doomed towers of Troy, the
fortress fated to fall in hostile fires, no succour did I require for
her wretched people, no weapons of thine art and aid: nor would I task,
dear my lord, thee or thy toils for naught, though I owed many and many
a debt to the children of Priam, and had often wept the sore labour of
Aeneas. Now by Jove's commands he hath set foot in the Rutulian borders;
I now therefore come with entreaty, and a