rawest mortal breath,
And fairest to the Tyrian town, if aught thereof I know.
Set on to Dido's threshold then e'en as the way doth show.
For take the tidings of thy ships and folk brought back again 390
By shifting of the northern wind all safe from off the main:
Unless my parents learned me erst of soothsaying to wot
But idly. Lo there twice seven swans disporting in a knot,
Whom falling from the plain of air drave down the bird of Jove
From open heaven: strung out at length they hang the earth above,
And now seem choosing where to pitch, now on their choice to gaze,
As wheeling round with whistling wings they sport in diverse ways
And with their band ring round the pole and cast abroad their song.
Nought otherwise the ships and youth that unto thee belong
Hold haven now, or else full sail to harbour-mouth are come. 400
Set forth, set forth and tread the way e'en as it leadeth home."

She spake, she turned, from rosy neck the light of heaven she cast,
And from her hair ambrosial the scent of Gods went past
Upon the wind, and o'er her feet her skirts fell shimmering down,
And very God she went her ways. Therewith his mother known,
With such a word he followed up a-fleeing from his eyes:

"Ah cruel as a God! and why with images and lies
Dost thou beguile me? wherefore then is hand to hand not given
And we to give and take in words that come from earth and heaven?"

Such wise he chided her, and then his footsteps townward bent: 410
But Venus with a dusky air did hedge them as they went,
And widespread cloak of cloudy stuff the Goddess round them wrapped,
Lest any man had seen them there, or bodily had happed
Across their road their steps to stay, and ask their dealings there.
But she to Paphos and her home went glad amidst the air:
There is her temple, there they stand, an hundred altars meet,
Warm with Sabaean incense-smoke, with new-pulled blossoms sweet.

But therewithal they speed their way as led the road along;
And now they scale a spreading hill that o'er the town is hung,
And looking downward thereupon hath all the burg in face. 420
AEneas marvels how that world was once a peasants' place,
He marvels at the gates, the roar and rattle of the ways.
Hot-heart the Tyrians speed the work, and some the ramparts raise,
Some pile the burg h