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Now, when my soul had shaken off her fears,
I call my father, and the Trojan peers―
Relate the prodigies of Heaven-require
What he commands, and their advice desire,
All vote to leave that execrable shore,
Polluted with the blood of Polydore;
But, ere we sail, his funeral rites prepare,
Then, to his ghost, a tomb and altars rear.
In mournful pomp the matrons walk the round,
With baleful cypress and blue fillets crown'd,
With eyes dejected, and with hair unbound.
Then bowls of tepid milk and blood we pour,
And thrice invoke the soul of Polydore.

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Now when the raging storms no longer reign, But southern gales invite us to the main, We launch our vessels, with a prosperous wind, And leave the cities and the shores behind.

'An island in the' Ægæan main appears: Neptune and watery Doris claim it theirs. It floated once, till Phœbus fix'd the sides To rooted earth; and now it braves the tides. Here, borne by friendly winds, we come ashore, With needful ease our weary limbs restore, And the Sun's temple and his town adore.

'Anius the priest and king, with laurel crown'd, His hoary locks with purple fillets bound, Who saw my sire the Delian shore ascend, Came forth with eager haste to meet his friend; Invites him to his palace; and, in sign

Of ancient love, their plighted hands they join. Then to the temple of the god I went,

And thus before the shrine my vows present"Give, O Thymbræus! give a restingplace To the sad relics of the Trojan race—

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A seat secure, a region of their own,

A lasting empire, and a happier town.

Where shall we fix? where shall our labours end?
Whom shall we follow, and what fate attend?
Let not my prayers a doubtful answer find;
But in clear auguries unveil thy mind."
Scarce had I said: he shook the holy ground,
The laurels, and the lofty hills around;
And from the tripos rush'd a bellowing sound.
Prostrate we fell; confess'd the present god,
Who gave this answer from his dark abode-
"Undaunted youths! go, seek that mother earth
From which your ancestors derive their birth.
The soil that sent you forth, her ancient race,
In her old bosom, shall again embrace.
Through the wide world the' Æneian house shall

And children's children shall the crown sustain."
Thus Phœbus did our future fates disclose;
A mighty tumult, mix'd with joy, arose.
All are concern'd to know what place the god
Assign'd, and where determined our abode.
My father, long revolving in his mind
The race and lineage of the Trojan kind,
Thus answer'd their demands-"Ye princes, hear
Your pleasing fortune, and dispel your fear.
The fruitful isle of Crete, well known to fame,
Sacred of old to Jove's imperial name,

In the mid ocean lies, with large command:
And on its plains a hundred cities stand.
Another Ida rises there; and we

From thence derive our Trojan ancestry.
From thence, as 'tis divulged by certain fame,
To the Rhotean shores old Teucer came;

There fix'd, and there the seat of empire chose,
Ere Ilium and the Trojan towers arose.

In humble vales they built their soft abodes;
Till Cybele, the mother of the gods,

With tinkling cymbals charm'd the' Idæan woods.
She secret rites and ceremonies taught,
And to the yoke the savage lions brought.
Let us the land, which Heaven appoints, explore;
Appease the winds, and seek the Cnossian shore.
If Jove assists the passage of our fleet,
The third propitious dawn discovers Crete."
Thus having said, the sacrifices laid
On smoking altars, to the gods he paid—
A bull to Neptune, an oblation due,
Another bull to bright Apollo, slew—

A milkwhite ewe, the western winds to please,
And one coal-black, to calm the stormy seas.
Ere this, a flying rumour had been spread,
That fierce Idomeneus from Crete was fled,
Expell'd and exiled: that the coast was free
From foreign or domestic enemy.

We leave the Delian ports, and put to sea;
By Naxos, famed for vintage, make our way;
Then green Donysa pass; and sail in sight
Of Paros' isle, with marble quarries white.
We pass
the scatter'd isles of Cyclades,
That, scarce distinguish'd, seem to stud the seas.
The shouts of sailors double near the shores;
They stretch their canvass, and they ply their oars.
"All hands aloft! for Crete! for Crete!" they cry,
And swiftly through the foamy billows fly.
Full on the promised land at length we bore,
With joy descending on the Cretan shore.


With eager haste a rising town I frame,
Which from the Trojan Pergamus I name;
The name itself was grateful:-I exhort
To found their houses, and erect a fort.
Our ships are haul'd upon the yellow strand:
The youth begin to till the labour'd land;
And I myself new marriages promote,
Give laws; and dwellings I divide by lot;
When rising vapours choke the wholesome air,
And blasts of noisome winds corrupt the year;
The trees devouring caterpillars burn;

Parch'd was the grass, and blighted was the corn:
Nor scape the beasts: for Sirius, from on high,
With pestilential heat infects the sky:
My men-some fall, the rest in fevers fry.
Again my father bids me seek the shore
Of sacred Delos, and the god implore,
To learn what end of woes we might expect,
And to what clime our weary course direct.

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"Twas night, when every creature,void of cares, The common gift of balmy slumber shares:

The statues of my gods (for such they seem'd),
Those gods whom I from flaming Troy redeem'd,
Before me stood majestically bright,

Full in the beams of Phoebe's entering light.
Then thus they spoke,and eased my troubled mind:
"What from the Delian god thou go'st to find,
He tells thee here, and sends us to relate.
Those powers are we, companions of thy fate,
Who from the burning town by thee were brought,
Thy fortune follow'd, and thy safety wrought.
Through seas and lands as we thy steps attend,
So shall our care thy glorious race befriend,

An ample realm for thee thy fates ordain,

A town, that o'er the conquer'd world shall reign.

Thou, mighty walls for mighty nations build;
Nor let thy weary mind to labours yield:
But change thy seat; for not the Delian god,
Nor we, have given thee Crete for our abode.
A land there is, Hesperia call'd of old
(The soil is fruitful, and the natives bold—
The' Enotrians held it once), by later fame,
Now call'd Italia, from the leader's name.
Iasius there, and Dardanus, were born.
From thence we came, and thither must return.
Rise, and thy sire with these glad tidings greet.-
Search Italy: for Jove denies thee Crete."

'Astonish'd at their voices and their sight
(Nor were they dreams, but visions of the night;
I saw, I knew their faces, and descried,
In perfect view, their hair with fillets tied),
I started from my couch; a clammy sweat
On all my limbs, and shivering body, sat.
To heaven I lift my hands with pious haste,
And sacred incense in the flames I cast.
Thus to the gods their perfect honours done,
More cheerful to my good old sire I run,
And tell the pleasing news.
In little space
He found his error of the double race,
Not, as before he deem'd, derived from Crete;
No more deluded by the doubtful seat;

Then said," O son, turmoil'd in Trojan fate!
Such things as these Cassandra did relate.
This day revives within my mind, what she
Foretold of Troy renew'd in Italy,

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