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222 For well I mind, my sire of old

This secret of the future told:

'Whene'er on unknown shores you eat

Your very boards for lack of meat,

Then count your home already found:

There build your town and bank it round.'

Aye, this the lack his words forecast.

And these the horrors of that fast,

Which waited all the while, to close

Our dreary catalogue of woes.

Come then, and with the morrow's ray.

Explore we each his diverse way,

The natives who, and what the place,

And where the city of the race.

Now with full cups libation pour

To mighty Jove, whom all adore,

Invoke Anchises' blessed soul,

And once again set on the bowl.'

Thus having said, he wreaths his brow

With cincture of a leafy bough,

Invokes the Genius of the spot,

And Earth, of Gods the first begot,

The Nymphs and Floods as yet unknown,

And Night and Stars that gem her throne,

And Ida's monarch Jove,

And the great Mother, Phrygia's fear,

And last, his own two parents dear,

One nether, one above.

Thrice, as he prayed, from azure skies

The Thunderer pealed aloud,

And flushing shook before their eyes

A red and golden cloud.

Through Ilium's ranks the fame flies fast,

The day has come shall found at last

Their city's promised towers: