Night's course half run, soon as the first reposehad banished sleep,—what time some careful wifewhose distaff and Minerva's humble toilmust earn her bread, rekindling her warm hearth,adds a night-burden to her laboring day,and by the torch-light cheers her maidens onto their long tasks; that so her husband's bedshe may in honor keep, and train to powerher dear men-children—at such prime of morn,with not less eager mind the Lord of Firefled his soft couch and to his forges tried.An island near Aeolian Liparanot far from a Sicilian headland lies,where smoking rocks precipitously towerabove a vast vault, which the Cyclops' skillouthollowed large as Aetna's thunderous caves.There ring the smitten anvils, and the roofre-echoes, roaring loud. Chalybian oreshiss in the gloom, and from the furnace mouthspuff the hot-panting fires. 'T is Vulcan's seat,and all that island is Vulcania.Thither descended now the god of firefrom height of heaven. At their task were foundthe Cyclops in vast cavern forging steel,naked Pyracmon and gigantic-limbedBrontes and Steropes; beneath their blowsa lightning-shaft, half-shaped, half-burnished lay,such as the Thunderer is wont to flingin numbers from the sky, but formless still.Three strands of whirling storm they wove with threeof bursting cloud, and three did interfuseof ruddy-gleaming fires and winged winds;then fearful lightnings on the skilful forgethey welded with loud horror, and with flamesthat bear swift wrath from Jove. Elsewhere a crewtoiled at the chariot and winged wheelwherewith the war-god wakens from reposeheroes and peopled cities. Others wroughtthe awful Aegis, herald of dismay,by angry Pallas worn; they burnished brightthe golden serpent-scales and wreathing snakes,till from the corselet of the goddess glaredthe Gorgon's severed head and rolling eyes.“Cyclops of Aetna,” Vulcan cried, “have done!Leave ev'ry task unfinished, and receivemy new command! Good armor must be forgedfor warrior brave. For this I need to useyour utmost sinew and your swiftest hand,with all your master skill. No lingering now!”Swift the command, and swiftly they divideto each his portion, and united urge the common task. Forth fow the molten streamsof brass and gold, and, melted in fierce fiame,the deeply-wounding steel like liquid flows.A mighty shield took shape, its single orbsufficient to withstand the gathered shockof all the Latin arms; for seven timesthey welded ring with ring. Some deftly plythe windy bellows, which receive and givethe roaring blasts; some plunge in cooling pondthe hissing metal, while the smithy floorgroans with the anvil's weight, as side by sidethey lift their giant arms in numbered blowsand roll with gripe of tongs the ponderous bars.

While thus the Lemnian god his labor spedin far Aeolian isle, the cheerful mornwith voice of swallows round his lowly eavessummoned Evander. From his couch arosethe royal sire, and o'er his aged framea tunic threw, tying beneath his feetthe Tuscan sandals: an Arcadian sword,girt at his left, was over one shoulder slung,his cloak of panther trailing from behind.A pair of watch-dogs from the lofty doorran close, their lord attending, as he soughthis guest Aeneas; for his princely soulremembered faithfully his former word,and promised gift. Aeneas with like mindwas stirring early. King Evander's sonPallas was at his side; Achates tooaccompanied his friend. All these conjoinin hand-clasp and good-morrow, taking seatsin midcourt of the house, and give the hourto converse unrestrained. First spoke the King:

“Great leader of the Teucrians, while thy lifein safety stands, I call not Trojan powervanquished or fallen. But to help thy warmy small means match not thy redoubled name.Yon Tuscan river is my bound. That wayRutulia thrusts us hard and chafes our wallwith loud, besieging arms. But I proposeto league with thee a numerous arrayof kings and mighty tribes, which fortune strangenow brings to thy defence. Thou comest herebecause the Fates intend. Not far from oursa city on an ancient rock is seen,Agylla, which a warlike Lydian clanbuilt on the Tuscan hills. It prospered wellfor many a year, then under the proud yokeof King Mezentius it came and borehis cruel sway. Why tell the loathsome deedsand crimes unspeakable the despot wrought?May Heaven requite them on his impious headand on his children! For he used to chaindead men to living, hand on hand was laidand face on face,—torment incredible!Till, locked in blood-stained, horrible embrace,a lingering death they found. But at the lasthis people rose in furious despair,and while he blasphemously raged, assailedhis life and throne, cut down his guardsand fired his regal dwellings; he, the while,escaped immediate death and fied awayto the Rutulian land, to find defencein Turnus hospitality. To-dayEtruria, to righteous anger stirred,demands with urgent arms her guilty King.To their large host, Aeneas, I will givean added strength, thyself. For yonder shoresre-echo with the tumult and the cryof ships in close array; their eager lordsare clamoring for battle. But the songof the gray omen-giver thus declarestheir destiny: ‘O goodly princes bornof old Maeonian lineage! Ye that arethe bloom and glory of an ancient race,whom just occasions now and noble rageenflame against Mezentius your foe,it is decreed that yonder nation proudshall never submit to chiefs Italian-born.Seek ye a king from far!’ So in the fieldinert and fearful lies Etruria's force,disarmed by oracles. Their Tarchon sentenvoys who bore a sceptre and a crowneven to me, and prayed I should assumethe sacred emblems of Etruria's king,and lead their host to war. But unto mecold, sluggish age, now barren and outworn,denies new kingdoms, and my slow-paced powersrun to brave deeds no more. Nor could I urgemy son, who by his Sabine mother's lineis half Italian-born. Thyself art he, whose birth illustrious and manly prime fate favors and celestial powers approve.Therefore go forth, O bravest chief and Kingof Troy and Italy! To thee I givethe hope and consolation of our throne,pallas, my son, and bid him find in theea master and example, while he learnsthe soldier's arduous toil. With thy brave deedslet him familiar grow, and reverence theewith youthful love and honor. In his traintwo hundred horsemen of Arcadia,our choicest men-at-arms, shall ride; and hein his own name an equal band shall bringto follow only thee.” Such the discourse.With meditative brows and downcast eyesAeneas and Achates, sad at heart,mused on unnumbered perils yet to come.But out of cloudless sky Cythera's Queengave sudden signal: from th' ethereal domea thunder-peal and flash of quivering firetumultuous broke, as if the world would fall,and bellowing Tuscan trumpets shook the air.All eyes look up. Again and yet againcrashed the terrible din, and where the skylooked clearest hung a visionary cloud,whence through the brightness blazed resounding arms.All hearts stood still. But Troy's heroic sonknew that his mother in the skies redeemedher pledge in sound of thunder: so he cried,“Seek not, my friend, seek not thyself to readthe meaning of the omen. 'T is to meOlympus calls. My goddess-mother gavelong since her promise of a heavenly signif war should burst; and that her power would bringa panoply from Vulcan through the air,to help us at our need. Alas, what deathsover Laurentum's ill-starred host impend!O Turnus, what a reckoning thou shalt payto me in arms! O Tiber, in thy wavewhat helms and shields and mighty soldiers slainshall in confusion roll! Yea, let them leadtheir lines to battle, and our league abjure!”

He said: and from the lofty throne uprose.Straightway he roused anew the slumbering firesacred to Hercules, and glad at heartadored, as yesterday, the household godsrevered by good Evander, at whose sidethe Trojan company made sacrificeof chosen lambs, with fitting rites and true.Then to his ships he tried him, and rejoinedhis trusty followers, of whom he tookthe best for valor known, to lend him aidin deeds of war. Others he bade returndown stream in easy course, and tidings bearto young Ascanius of the new event,and of his father. Horses then were broughtfor all the Teucrians to Etruria bound;and for Aeneas one of rarest breed,o'er whom a tawny robe descended low,of lion-skin, with claws of gleaming gold.

Noised swiftly through the little town it fliesthat to the precinct of the Tuscan Kingarmed horsemen speed. Pale mothers in great fearunceasing pray; for panic closely runsin danger's steps; the war-god drawing nighlooms larger; and good sire Evander nowclings to the hand of his departing sonand, weeping without stay, makes sad farewell:“O, that great Jove would give me once againmy vanished years! O, if such man I were,as when beneath Praeneste's wall I slewthe front ranks of her sons, and burned for spoiltheir gathered shields on my triumph day;or when this right hand hurled king Erulusto shades below, though—terrible to tell —Feronia bore him with three lives, that thricehe might arise from deadly strife o'erthrown,and thrice be slain—yet all these lives took I,and of his arms despoiled him o'er and o'er:not now, sweet son (if such lost might were mine),should I from thy beloved embrace be torn;nor could Mezentius with insulting sworddo murder in my sight and make my landdepopulate and forlorn. O gods in Heaven,and chiefly thou whom all the gods obey,have pity, Jove, upon Arcadia's King,and hear a father's prayer: if your intentbe for my Pallas a defence secure,if it be writ that long as I shall live,my eyes may see him, and my arms enfold,I pray for life, and all its ills I bear.But if some curse, too dark to tell, impendfrom thee, O Fortune blind! I pray thee breakmy thread of miserable life to-day;to-day, while fear still doubts and hope still smileson the unknown to-morrow, as I holdthee to my bosom, dearest child, who artmy last and only joy; to-day, beforeth' intolerable tidings smite my ears.”Such grief the royal father's heart outpouredat this last parting; the strong arms of slaveslifted him, fallen in swoon, and bore him home.