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The Aeneid
The Aeneid
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The Aeneid


And feeds with secret joy her silent breast.

Such Dido was; with such becoming state,

Amidst the crowd, she walks serenely great.

Their labor to her future sway she speeds,

And passing with a gracious glance proceeds;

Then mounts the throne, high plac’d before the shrine:

In crowds around, the swarming people join.

She takes petitions, and dispenses laws,

Hears and determines ev’ry private cause;

Their tasks in equal portions she divides,

And, where unequal, there by lots decides.

Another way by chance Aeneas bends

His eyes, and unexpected sees his friends,

Antheus, Sergestus grave, Cloanthus strong,

And at their backs a mighty Trojan throng,

Whom late the tempest on the billows toss’d,

And widely scatter’d on another coast.

The prince, unseen, surpris’d with wonder stands,

And longs, with joyful haste, to join their hands;

But, doubtful of the wish’d event, he stays,

And from the hollow cloud his friends surveys,

Impatient till they told their present state,

And where they left their ships, and what their fate,

And why they came, and what was their request;

For these were sent, commission’d by the rest,

To sue for leave to land their sickly men,

And gain admission to the gracious queen.

Ent’ring, with cries they fill’d the holy fane;

Then thus, with lowly voice, Ilioneus began:

“O Queen! indulg’d by favor of the gods

To found an empire in these new abodes,

To build a town, with statutes to restrain

The wild inhabitants beneath thy reign,

We wretched Trojans, toss’d on ev’ry shore,

From sea to sea, thy clemency implore.

Forbid the fires our shipping to deface!

Receive th’ unhappy fugitives to grace,

And spare the remnant of a pious race!

We come not with design of wasteful prey,

To drive the country, force the swains away:

Nor such our strength, nor such is our desire;

The vanquish’d dare not to such thoughts aspire.

A land there is, Hesperia nam’d of old;

The soil is fruitful, and the men are bold—

Th’ Oenotrians held it once—by common fame

Now call’d Italia, from the leader’s name.

To that sweet region was our voyage bent,

When winds and ev’ry warring element

Disturb’d our course, and, far from sight of land,

Cast our torn vessels on the moving sand: