Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/251

Rh I swear it by Æneas' fate,

By that right hand which makes him great,

In peace and war approved alike

A friend to aid, a foe to strike,

Full oft have mighty nations—nay,

Scorn not a suppliant's mean array,

Nor deem that wreaths and lowly speech

The freedom of our boast impeach—

Full oft with zeal and earnest prayers

Have nations wooed us to be theirs;

But heaven's high fate, with stern command,

Impelled us still to this your land.

Here Dardanus was born, and here

Apollo bids our race return:

To Tyrrhene Tiber points the seer

And pure Numicius' hallowed urn.

These presents too our hands convey,

Scant relics of a happier day,

From burning Ilium snatched away.

From this bright gold before the shrine

His sire Anchises poured the wine:

With these adornments Priam sate

'Mid gathered crowds in kingly state,

The sceptre and the diadem:

Troy's women wrought the vesture's hem.'

Thus as Ilioneus moves his suit,

Latinus' face is fixed and mute;

He sits as rooted to the ground,

And turns his eyes in wonder round.

Not Priam's crown nor purple wrought

So deeply stirs his princely thought:

His daughter's bed—on that he dwells,

And Faunus' riddle spells and spells:

Aye, this the chief the Fates prepare

From foreign parts his throne to share,