So did Anchises speak, then, after pause, Thus to their wondering ears his word prolonged: “Behold Marcellus, bright with glorious spoil, In lifted triumph through his warriors move! The Roman power in tumultuous days He shall establish; he rides forth to quell Afric and rebel Gaul ; and to the shrine Of Romulus the third-won trophy brings.” Then spoke Aeneas, for he now could see A beauteous youth in glittering dress of war, Though of sad forehead and down-dropping eyes: “Say, father, who attends the prince? a son? Or of his greatness some remoter heir? How his friends praise him, and how matchless he! But mournful night Tests darkly o'er his brow.” With brimming eyes Anchises answer gave: “Ask not, 0 son, what heavy weight of woe Thy race shall bear, when fate shall just reveal This vision to the world, then yield no more. 0 gods above, too glorious did ye deem The seed of Rome , had this one gift been sure? The lamentation of a multitude Arises from the field of Mars, and strikes The city's heart. 0 Father Tiber, see What pomp of sorrow near the new-made tomb Beside thy fleeting stream! What Ilian youth Shall e'er his Latin kindred so advance In hope of glory? When shall the proud land Of Romulus of such a nursling boast? Ah, woe' is me! 0 loyal heart and true! 0 brave, right arm invincible! What foe Had 'scaped his onset in the shock of arms, Whether on foot he strode, or if he spurred The hot flanks of his war-horse flecked with foam? 0 lost, lamented child! If thou evade Thy evil star, Marcellus thou shalt be. 0 bring me lilies! Bring with liberal hand! Sad purple blossoms let me throw—the shade Of my own kin to honor, heaping high My gifts upon his grave! So let me pay An unavailing vow!” Then, far and wide Through spacious fields of air, they wander free, Witnessing all; Anchises guides his son From point to point, and quickens in his mind Hunger for future fame. Of wars he tells Soon imminent; of fair Laurentum's tribes; Of King Latinus' town; and shows what way Each task and hardship to prevent, or bear. Now Sleep has portals twain, whereof the one Is horn, they say, and easy exit gives To visions true; the other, gleaming white With polished ivory, the.dead employ To people night with unsubstantial dreams. Here now Anchises bids his son farewell; And with Sibylla, his companion sage, Up through that ivory portal lets him rise. Back to his fleet and his dear comrades all Aeneas hastes. Then hold they their straight course Into Caieta 's bay. An anchor holds Each lofty prow; the sterns stand firm on shore. One more immortal name thy death bequeathed, Nurse of Aeneas, to Italian shores, Caieta ; there thy honor hath a home; Thy bones a name: and on Hesperia's breast Their proper glory. When Aeneas now The tribute of sepulchral vows had paid Beside the funeral mound, and o'er the seas Stillness had fallen, he flung forth his sails, And leaving port pursued his destined way. Freshly the night-winds breathe; the cloudless moon Outpours upon his path unstinted beam, And with far-trembling glory smites the sea. Close to the lands of Circe soon they fare, Where the Sun's golden daughter in far groves Sounds forth her ceaseless song; her lofty hall Is fragrant every night with flaring brands Of cedar, giving light the while she weaves With shrill-voiced shuttle at her linens fine. From hence are heard the loud lament and wrath Of lions, rebels to their linked chains And roaring all night long; great bristly boars And herded bears, in pinfold closely kept, Rage horribly, and monster-wolves make moan; Whom the dread goddess with foul juices strong From forms of men drove forth, and bade to wear the mouths and maws of beasts in Circe's thrall. But lest the sacred Trojans should endure such prodigy of doom, or anchor there on that destroying shore, kind Neptune filled their sails with winds of power, and sped them on in safety past the perils of that sea. Now morning flushed the wave, and saffron-garbed Aurora from her rose-red chariot beamed in highest heaven; the sea-winds ceased to stir; a sudden calm possessed the air, and tides of marble smoothness met the laboring oar. Then, gazing from the deep, Aeneas saw a stretch of groves, whence Tiber 's smiling stream, its tumbling current rich with yellow sands, burst seaward forth: around it and above shore-haunting birds of varied voice and plume flattered the sky with song, and, circling far o'er river-bed and grove, took joyful wing. Thither to landward now his ships he steered, and sailed, high-hearted, up the shadowy stream. Hail, Erato! while olden kings and thrones and all their sequent story I unfold! How Latium 's honor stood, when alien ships brought war to Italy , and from what cause the primal conflict sprang, O goddess, breathe upon thy bard in song. Dread wars I tell, array of battle, and high-hearted kings thrust forth to perish, when Etruria's host and all Hesperia gathered to the fray. Events of grander march impel my song, and loftier task I try. Latinus, then an aged king, held long-accepted sway o'er tranquil vales and towns. He was the son of Faunus, so the legend tells, who wed the nymph Marica of Laurentian stem. Picus was Faunus' father, whence the line to Saturn's Ioins ascends. O heavenly sire, from thee the stem began! But Fate had given to King Latinus' body no heirs male: for taken in the dawning of his day his only son had been; and now his home and spacious palace one sole daughter kept, who was grown ripe to wed and of full age to take a husband. Many suitors tried from all Ausonia and Latium 's bounds; but comeliest in all their princely throng came Turnus, of a line of mighty sires. Him the queen mother chiefly loved, and yearned to call him soon her son. But omens dire and menaces from Heaven withstood her will. A laurel-tree grew in the royal close, of sacred leaf and venerated age, which, when he builded there his wall and tower, Father Latinus found, and hallowed it to Phoebus' grace and power, wherefrom the name Laurentian, which his realm and people bear. Unto this tree-top, wonderful to tell, came hosts of bees, with audible acclaim voyaging the stream of air, and seized a place on the proud, pointing crest, where the swift swarm, with interlacement of close-clinging feet, swung from the leafy bough. “Behold, there comes,” the prophet cried, “a husband from afar! To the same region by the self-same path behold an arm'd host taking lordly sway upon our city's crown!” Soon after this, when, coming to the shrine with torches pure, Lavinia kindled at her father's side the sacrifice, swift seemed the flame to burn along her flowing hair—O sight of woe! Over her broidered snood it sparkling flew, lighting her queenly tresses and her crown of jewels rare: then, wrapt in flaming cloud, from hall to hall the fire-god's gift she flung. This omen dread and wonder terrible was rumored far: for prophet-voices told bright honors on the virgin's head to fall by Fate's decree, but on her people, war.