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harsh Omnipotence had brought

The power of Asia's kings to nought,

When Troy's Neptunian walls became

A prostrate mass of smould'ring flame,

To diverse exile we are driven

In desert lands, by signs from Heaven.

There in Antandros under Ide

The wished-for vessels we provide,

Unknowing whither Fate may lead

Or what the settlement decreed,

And call our forces round. The sun

His summer course had scarce begun,

When now my sire Anchises gave

His voice to tempt the fated wave:

Weeping I quit the port, the shore,

The plains where Ilium stood before,

And homeless launch upon the main,

Son, friends, and home-gods in my train.

A realm lies near, of ample space

(Lycurgus ruled it once), called Thrace,

Allied of old to Ilium's powers,

Its home-gods federate with ours

While Fate was with us. Here I land,

And here along the winding strand