My mother, led me here with solemn warnings Under Apollo’s guidance.” So Evander Finished the tale, resumed the walk. They came, First, to an altar and a gate: Carmental The Romans call it, in honor of that nymph Who first foretold the greatness of the Romans, The glory of Pallanteum. Past the portal They came to a spreading grove, a sanctuary Restored by Romulus, and under the cold cliff The Lupercal, named, in Arcadian fashion, For the great god Pan. And then Evander showed him The wood of Argiletum, and told the legend Of the death of Argus, once a guest. From there They went to the Tarpeian house, and a place Golden as we now know it, once a thicket, Once brush and briar, and now our Capitol. Even then men trembled, fearful of a presence Haunting this wood, this rock. “A god lives here,” Evander said, “What god, we are not certain, But certainly a god. Sometimes my people Think they have seen, it may be, Jove himself Clashing the darkening shield, massing the storm-cloud. Here you can see two towns; the walls are shattered, But they remind us still of men of old, Two forts, one built by Janus, one by Saturn, Janiculum, Saturnia.” So they came, Conversing with each other, to the dwelling Where poor Evander lived, and saw the cattle And heard them lowing, through the Roman forum, The fashionable section of our city, And as they came to the house itself, Evander Remembered something,--“Hercules,” he said, “Great victor that he was, bent head and shoulders To enter here, and this house entertained him. Dare, O my guest, to think of wealth as nothing, Make yourself worthy of the god, and come here Without contempt for poverty.” He led him, The great Aeneas, under the low rafters, Found him a couch, nothing but leaves, and the bedspread A Libyan bear-skin. And night came rushing down Dark-wingèd over the earth.