Aeneas ceased. The other long had scannedthe hero's face, his eyes, and wondering viewedhis form and mien divine; in answer nowhe briefly spoke: “With hospitable heart,O bravest warrior of all Trojan-born,I know and welcome thee. I well recallthy sire Anchises, how he looked and spake.For I remember Priam, when he cameto greet his sister, Queen Hesione,in Salamis, and thence pursued his wayto our cool uplands of Arcadia.The bloom of tender boyhood then was mine,and with a wide-eyed wonder I did viewthose Teucrian lords, Laomedon's great heir,and, towering highest in their goodly throng,Anchises, whom my warm young heart desiredto speak with and to clasp his hand in mine.So I approached, and joyful led him hometo Pheneus' olden wall. He gave me giftsthe day he bade adieu; a quiver rarefilled with good Lycian arrows, a rich cloakinwove with thread of gold, and bridle reinsall golden, now to youthful Pallas given.Therefore thy plea is granted, and my handhere clasps in loyal amity with thine.To-morrow at the sunrise thou shalt havemy tribute for the war, and go thy waymy glad ally. But now this festival,whose solemn rite 't were impious to delay,I pray thee celebrate, and bring with theewell-omened looks and words. Allies we are!Use this our sacred feast as if your own.”

So saying, he bade his followers renewth' abandoned feast and wine; and placed each gueston turf-built couch of green, most honoringAeneas by a throne of maple fairdecked with a lion's pelt and flowing mane.Then high-born pages, with the altar's priest,bring on the roasted beeves and load the boardwith baskets of fine bread; and wine they bring —of Ceres and of Bacchus gift and toil.While good Aeneas and his Trojans sharethe long whole ox and meats of sacrifice.

When hunger and its eager edge were gone,Evander spoke: “This votive holiday,yon tables spread and altar so divine,are not some superstition dark and vain,that knows not the old gods, O Trojan King!But as men saved from danger and great fearthis thankful sacrifice we pay. Behold,yon huge rock, beetling from the mountain wall,hung from the cliff above. How lone and barethe hollowed mountain looks! How crag on cragtumbled and tossed in huge confusion lie!A cavern once it was, which ran deep downinto the darkness. There th' half-human shapeof Cacus made its hideous den, concealedfrom sunlight and the day. The ground was wetat all times with fresh gore; the portal grimwas hung about with heads of slaughtered men,bloody and pale—a fearsome sight to see.Vulcan begat this monster, which spewed forthdark-fuming flames from his infernal throat,and vast his stature seemed. But time and tidebrought to our prayers the advent of a godto help us at our need. For Hercules,divine avenger, came from laying lowthree-bodied Geryon, whose spoils he woreexultant, and with hands victorious drovethe herd of monster bulls, which pastured freealong our river-valley. Cacus gazedin a brute frenzy, and left not untriedaught of bold crime or stratagem, but stolefour fine bulls as they fed, and heifers four,all matchless; but, lest hoof-tracks point his way,he dragged them cave-wards by the tails, confusingthe natural trail, and hid the stolen herdin his dark den; and not a mark or signcould guide the herdsmen to that cavern-door.But after, when Amphitryon's famous son,preparing to depart, would from the meadsgoad forth the full-fed herd, his lingering bullsroared loud, and by their lamentable cryfilled grove and hills with clamor of farewell:one heifer from the mountain-cave lowed backin answer, so from her close-guarded stallfoiling the monster's will. Then hadst thou seenthe wrath of Hercules in frenzy blazefrom his exasperate heart. His arms he seized,his club of knotted oak, and climbed full-speedthe wind-swept hill. Now first our people sawCacus in fear, with panic in his eyes.Swift to the black cave like a gale he flew,his feet by terror winged. Scarce had he passedthe cavern door, and broken the big chains,and dropped the huge rock which was pendent thereby Vulcan's well-wrought steel; scarce blocked and barredthe guarded gate: when there Tirynthius stood,with heart aflame, surveying each approach,rolling this way and that his wrathful eyes,gnashing his teeth. Three times his ire surveyedthe slope of Aventine; three times he stormedthe rock-built gate in vain; and thrice withdrewto rest him in the vale. But high abovea pointed peak arose, sheer face of rockon every side, which towered into viewfrom the long ridge above the vaulted cave,fit haunt for birds of evil-boding wing.This peak, which leftward toward the river leaned,he smote upon its right—his utmost blow —breaking its bases Ioose; then suddenlythrust at it: as he thrust, the thunder-soundfilled all the arching sky, the river's banksasunder leaped, and Tiber in alarmreversed his flowing wave. So Cacus' lairlay shelterless, and naked to the daythe gloomy caverns of his vast abodestood open, deeply yawning, just as ifthe riven earth should crack, and open wideth' infernal world and fearful kingdoms pale,which gods abhor; and to the realms on highthe measureless abyss should be laid bare,and pale ghosts shrink before the entering sun.Now upon Cacus, startled by the glare,caged in the rocks and howling horribly,Alcides hurled his weapons, raining downall sorts of deadly missiles—trunks of trees,and monstrous boulders from the mountain torn.But when the giant from his mortal straitno refuge knew, he blew from his foul jawsa storm of smoke—incredible to tell —and with thick darkness blinding every eye,concealed his cave, uprolling from belowone pitch-black night of mingled gloom and fire.This would Alcides not endure, but leapedheadlong across the flames, where densest hungthe rolling smoke, and through the cavern surgeda drifting and impenetrable cloud.With Cacus, who breathed unavailing flame,he grappled in the dark, locked limb with limb,and strangled him, till o'er the bloodless throatthe starting eyeballs stared.Then Herculesburst wide the doorway of the sooty den,and unto Heaven and all the people showedthe stolen cattle and the robber's crimes,and dragged forth by the feet the shapeless corpseof the foul monster slain. The people gazedinsatiate on the grewsome eyes, the breastof bristling shag, the face both beast and man,and that fire-blasted throat whence breathed no morethe extinguished flame. 'T is since that famous daywe celebrate this feast, and glad of hearteach generation keeps the holy time.Potitius began the worship due,and our Pinarian house is vowed to guardthe rites of Hercules. An altar fairwithin this wood they raised; 't is called ‘the Great,’and Ara Maxima its name shall be.Come now, my warriors, and bind your browswith garlands worthy of the gift of Heaven.Lift high the cup in every thankful hand,and praise our people's god with plenteous wine.”He spoke; and of the poplar's changeful sheen,sacred to Hercules, wove him a wreathto shade his silvered brow. The sacred cuphe raised in his right hand, while all the restcalled on the gods and pure libation poured.

Soon from the travelling heavens the western starglowed nearer, and Potitius led forththe priest-procession, girt in ancient guisewith skins of beasts and carrying burning brands.new feasts are spread, and altars heaped anewwith gifts and laden chargers. Then with songthe Salian choir surrounds the blazing shrine,their foreheads wreathed with poplar. Here the youth,the elders yonder, in proud anthem singthe glory and the deeds of Hercules:how first he strangled with strong infant handtwo serpents, Juno's plague; what cities proud,Troy and Oechalia, his famous warin pieces broke; what labors numberlessas King Eurystheus' bondman he endured, by cruel Juno's will. “Thou, unsubdued,didst strike the twy-formed, cloud-bred centaurs down,Pholus and tall Hylaeus. Thou hast slainthe Cretan horror, and the lion hugebeneath the Nemean crag. At sight of theethe Stygian region quailed, and Cerberus,crouching o'er half-picked bones in gory cave.Nothing could bid thee fear. Typhoeus toweredin his colossal Titan-panoplyo'er thee in vain; nor did thy cunning failwhen Lema's wonder-serpent round thee drewits multudinous head. Hail, Jove's true son!New glory to the gods above, come down,and these thine altars and thy people bless!”Such hymns they chanted, telling oft the taleof Cacus' cave and blasting breath of fire:while hills and sacred grove the note prolong.

Such worship o'er, all take the homeward wayback to the town. The hospitable King,though bowed with weight of years, kept at his sideAeneas and his son, and as they fared,with various discourse beguiled the way.Aeneas scanned with quick-admiring eyesthe region wide, and lingered with delightnow here, now there, inquiring eagerlyof each proud monument of heroes gone.Then King Evander, he who builded firstOn Palatine, spoke thus: “These groves erewhiletheir native nymphs and fauns enjoyed, with menfrom trees engendered and stout heart of oak.Nor laws nor arts they knew; nor how to tameburls to the yoke, nor fill great barns with storeand hoard the gathered grain; but rudely faredon wild fruits and such food as hunters find.Then Saturn from Olympian realms came down,in flight from Jove's dread arms, his sceptre lost,and he an exiled King. That savage racehe gathered from the mountain slopes; and gavewise laws and statutes; so that latent landwas Latium, ‘hid land’, where he hid so long.The golden centuries by legends toldwere under that good King, whose equal swayuntroubled peace to all his peoples gave.But after slow decline arrived an agedegenerate and of a darker hue,prone to insensate war and greed of gain.Then came Sicanian and Ausonian tribes,and oft the land of Saturn lost its name.New chieftains rose, and Thybris, giant Kingand violent, from whom th' Italians namedthe flooding Tiber, which was called no morethe Albula, its true and ancient style.Myself, in exile from my fatherlandsailing uncharted seas, was guided hereby all-disposing Chance and iron lawsof Destiny. With prophecy severeCarmentis, my nymph-mother, thrust me on,warned by Apollo's word.” He scarce had said,when near their path he showed an altar fairand the Carmental gate, where Romans seememorial of Carmentis, nymph divine,the prophetess of fate, who first foretoldwhat honors on Aeneas' sons should falland lordly Pallanteum, where they dwell.Next the vast grove was seen, where Romulusordained inviolable sanctuary;then the Lupercal under its cold crag,Wolf-hill, where old Arcadians reveredtheir wolf-god, the Lycaean Pan. Here toothe grove of Argiletum, sacred name,where good Evander told the crime and deathof Argus, his false guest. From this they climbedthe steep Tarpeian hill, the Capitol,all gold to-day, but then a tangled wildof thorny woodland. Even then the placewoke in the rustics a religious awe,and bade them fear and tremble at the viewof that dread rock and grove. “This leafy wood,which crowns the hill-top, is the favored seatof some great god,” said he, “but of his namewe know not surely. The Arcadians sayjove's dread right hand here visibly appearsto shake his aegis in the darkening storm,the clouds compelling. Yonder rise in viewtwo strongholds with dismantled walls, which noware but a memory of great heroes gone:one father Janus built, and Saturn one;their names, Saturnia and Janiculum.”'Mid such good parley to the house they cameof King Evander, unadorned and plain,whence herds of browsing cattle could be seenranging the Forum, and loud-bellowingin proud Carinae. As they entered there,“Behold,” said he, “the threshold that receivedAlcides in his triumph! This abodehe made his own. Dare, O illustrious guest,to scorn the pomp of power. Shape thy soulto be a god's fit follower. Enter here,and free from pride our frugal welcome share.”So saying, 'neath his roof-tree scant and lowhe led the great Aeneas, offering hima couch of leaves with Libyan bear-skin spread.Now night drew near, enfolding the wide worldin shadowy wings. But Venus, sore disturbed,vexed not unwisely her maternal breast,fearing Laurentum's menace and wild stirof obstinate revolt, and made her pleato Vulcan in their nuptial bower of gold,outbreathing in the music of her wordscelestial love: “When warring Argive kingsbrought ruin on Troy's sacred citadeland ramparts soon to sink in hostile flames,I asked not thee to help that hopeless woe,nor craved thy craft and power. For, dearest lord,I would not tax in vain shine arduous toil,though much to Priam's children I was bound,and oft to see Aeneas burdened soreI could but weep. But now by will of Jovehe has found foothold in Rutulian lands.Therefore I come at last with lowly suitbefore a godhead I adore, and prayfor gift of arms,—a mother for her son.Thou wert not unrelenting to the tearsof Nereus' daughter or Tithonus' bride.Behold what tribes conspire, what cities strongbehind barred gates now make the falchion keento ruin and blot out both me and mine!”So spake the goddess, as her arms of snowaround her hesitating spouse she threwin tender, close embrace. He suddenlyknew the familiar fire, and o'er his frameits wonted ardor unresisted ran,swift as the glittering shaft of thunder cleavesthe darkened air and on from cloud to cloudthe rift of lightning runs. She, joyful wife;felt what her beauty and her guile could do;as, thralled by love unquenchable, her spousethus answered fair: “Why wilt thou labor sowith far-fetched pleas? my goddess, hast thou lostthy faith in me? Had such a prayer been shine,I could have armed the Teucrians. Neither Jovenor Destiny had grudged ten added yearsof life to Troy and Priam. If to-daythou hast a war in hand, and if thy heartdetermine so, I willingly engageto lend thee all my cunning; whatsoevermolten alloy or welded iron can,whate'er my roaring forge and flames achieve,I offer thee. No more in anxious prayerdistrust thy beauty's power.” So saying, he gaveembrace of mutual desire, and founddeep, peaceful sleep, on her fond heart reclined.