And evening came, And the priests went forth, Potitius first; they wore The skins of beasts, and they were bearing torches. The feast renewed, they brought the welcome viands To a second table, loading, too, the altars. And the Dancing Priests around the sacred altars Lit fire and sang their songs. They too wore poplar, Both groups, one old, one young, and chanted verses In praise of Hercules, his deeds, his glories, How first he strangled in his grip twin serpents, The monsters Juno sent; how, great in war, Troy and Oechalia went down before him; How, under King Eurystheus, he bore A thousand heavy toils, at Juno’s order. “Hail, O unvanquished hero, whose hand brought low Pholus, Hylaeus, the cloud-born double shapes, Monsters of Crete and the Nemean lion. The Stygian lakes trembled at Hercules’ crossing, And Cerberus was frightened, in his cavern, Lying on bones half-eaten. O unafraid Of any monster, even Typhoeus, towering High in his arms, even the snake of Lerna With all its hissing heads,--hail, son of Jove, Hail, glorious addition to the heavens! Favor our rites and yours with gracious blessing!” So they sang praises, and they crowned the service With the tale of Cacus, that fire-breathing monster, And hill and woodland echoed to the singing. Then back to the city again; and old Evander Kept his son Pallas near him and Aeneas, Talking of various matters, so the journey Was lightened, and the landscape charmed Aeneas, Who wondered as he watched the scene, and questioned, And learned its early legend. King Evander Began the story:--“Native Nymphs and Fauns Dwelt in these woodlands once, and a race of men Sprung from the trunks of trees, or rugged oak, Men primitive and rude, with little culture: They had no knowledge of ploughing, none of harvest; The fruits of the wild trees, the spoils of hunting, Gave them their nourishment. Then Saturn came here, Fleeing Jove’s arms, an exile from his kingdom. He organized this race, unruly, scattered Through the high mountains, gave them law and order. He gave the place a name; Latium, he called it, Since once he lay there safely, hiding in shelter. Under his rule there came those golden ages That people tell of, all the nations dwelling In amity and peace. But little by little A worse age came, lack-luster in its color, And the madness of war, and the evil greed of having. Then came the Ausonian bands, Sicanian peoples, And the land of Saturn took on other names, And the kings came, and the fierce giant Thybris For whom we named our river; we forgot Its older title, Albula. Here I came An exile from my country, over the seas, Driven by fate and fortune, which no man Can cope with or escape. The nymph Carmentis,