On that day, it happened, The king was paying customary homage, In a grove before the city, to the gods, To Hercules, most of all. And his son Pallas Was with him there, and the leaders of the people, The lowly senate, bringing gifts of incense Where the warm blood was smoking at the altars. They saw the tall ships come, they saw them gliding Upstream, through the dark wood, the feathered oar-blades Making no noise at all, and they were frightened, They rose; they would have left the feast, but Pallas, Unterrified, forbade them; he seized a weapon, Rushed out in challenge, calling from a hillock:-- “What cause, young men, has brought you here, exploring Ways that you do not know? Where are you going? What is your race? Where do you come from? Are you Bringers of peace or war?” Aeneas answered From the high stern, raising the branch of olive:-- “We are men from Troy; we are armed against the Latins, Whose arrogant war we flee. We seek Evander. Take him this message: tell him chosen leaders, Dardanus’ sons, have come, to seek for friendship, For allied arms.” And Pallas, in amazement At hearing that great name, cried, “Come and join us, Whoever you are, speak to my father, enter, O guest, into our household!” And his hand Reached out to greet and guide them. They left the river, Drew near the grove; with friendly words Aeneas Spoke to Evander:--“Best of the sons of Greeks, To whom, at fortune’s will, I bring petition, Bearing the branch of peace, I have not been frightened To come to you, a Danaan chief, related To Atreus’ twin sons. In my own right I am worth something; we are bound together By the god’s holy oracles, by the old Ancestral kinship, by your own renown Widespread through all the world. I am glad to follow The will of fate. Dardanus, our great father, Was father of Troy; his mother was Electra, Daughter of Atlas, who carries on his shoulders The weight of heaven. Mercury is your father, Born, on Cyllene’s chilly peak, to Maia, And Maia, if legend is credible, the daughter Of Atlas, who carries heaven on his shoulders. A common blood runs in our veins, and therefore I sent no embassies, I planned no careful Tentative overtures; myself, I came here My life at your disposal, in supplication Before your threshold. We are harried in war By the same race that harries you, the sons Of Daunus; nothing, so they think, will stop them, If we are beaten, from complete dominion Over the western land and both her oceans. Receive and give alliance: our hearts are brave, Our spirit tried and willing.”