, nor Priam's sceptre fair,
As on his daughter's bridal bed the thoughts in him had rest,
For ancient Faunus' fateful word he turned within his breast.
Here was the son, the fate-foretold, the outland wanderer,
Called on by equal doom of God the equal throne to share;
He from whose loins those glorious sons of valour should come forth
To take the whole world for their own by utter might of worth.

At last he spake out joyfully: "God grace our deed begun,
And his own bidding! man of Troy, thine asking shall be done: 260
I take your gifts: nought shall ye lack from King Latinus' hand,
Riches of Troy, nor health and wealth of fat and fruitful land.
But let AEneas come himself if he so yearn for me,
If he be eager for our house, and would our fellow be;
Nor let him fear to look upon friends' faces close anigh,
Part of the peace-troth shall be this, my hand in his to lie.
And now bear back unto your king this bidding that I send:
I have a daughter; her indeed with countryman to blend
The answers of my father's house forbid, and many a sign
Sent down from heaven: from over sea comes one to wed our line; 270
They say this bideth Latin Land; a man to raise our blood
Up to the very stars of heaven: that this is he fate would,
I think, yea hope, if any whit my heart herein avail."

He spake, and bade choose horses out from all his noble tale,
Whereof three hundred sleek and fair stood in the stables high:
These biddeth he for Teucrian men be led forth presently,
Wing-footed purple-bearing beasts, with pictures o'er them flung
Of woven stuff, and, on their breasts are golden collars hung:
Gold-housed are they, and champ in teeth the yellow-golden chain
But to AEneas, absent thence, a car and yoke-beasts twain 280
He sends: the seed of heaven are they, and breathing very fire,
The blood of those that Circe stole when she beguiled her sire,
That crafty mistress, winning them, bastards, from earthy mare.
So back again AEneas' folk high on their horses fare,
Bearing Latinus' gifts and words, and all the tale of peace.

But lo, where great Jove's bitter wife comes from the town of Greece,
From Argos wrought of Inachus, and holds the airy way.
Far off she sees AEneas' joy, and where the ship-host lay
Of Dardans: yea from Sicily and far Pachynus head
She seeth