Book 3
Unto Anchises he gave greeting kind,
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claimed old acquaintance, grasped us by the hand,
and bade us both his roof and welcome share.
Then, kneeling at the shrine of time-worn stone:
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“Thou who at Thymbra on the Trojan shore
hast often blessed my prayer, O, give to me
a hearth and home, and to this war-worn band
defensive towers and offspring multiplied
in an abiding city; give to Troy
a second citadel, that shall survive
Achilles' wrath and all our Argive foe.
Whom shall we follow? Whither lies our way?
Where wilt thou grant us an abiding-place?
Send forth, O King, thy voice oracular,
and on our spirits move.” Scarce had I spoke
when sudden trembling through the laurels ran
and smote the holy portals; far and wide
the mighty ridges of the mountain shook,
and from the opening shrine the tripod moaned.
Prostrate to earth we fall, as on our ears
this utterance breaks: “O breed of iron men,
ye sons of Dardanus! the self-same land
where bloomed at first your far-descended stem
shall to its bounteous bosom draw ye home.
Seek out your ancient Mother! There at last
Aeneas' race shall reign on every shore,
and his sons' sons, and all their house to be.”
So Phoebus spoke; and mighty joy uprose
from all my thronging people, who would know
where Phoebus' city lay, and whitherward
the god ordained the wandering tribe's return.
Then spake my father, pondering olden days
and sacred memories of heroes gone:
“Hear, chiefs and princes, what your hopes shall be!
The Isle of Crete, abode of lofty Jove,
rests in the middle sea. Thence Ida soars;
there is the cradle of our race. It boasts
a hundred cities, seats of fruitful power.
Thence our chief sire, if duly I recall
the olden tale, King Teucer sprung, who first
