May be alive; no man was ever more just, More decent ever, or greater in war and arms. If fate preserves him still, if he still breathes The welcome air, above the world of shadows, Fear not; to have treated us with kindly service Need bring you no repentance. We have cities In Sicily as well, and King Acestes Is one of us, from Trojan blood. We ask you To let us beach our battered fleet, make ready Beams from the forest timber, mend our oarage, Seek Italy and Latium, glad at knowing Our king and comrades rescued. But if safety Is hopeless for him now, and Libyan water Has been his grave, and if his son Iulus Is desperate, or lost, grant us permission At least to make for Sicily, whence we came here, Where king Acestes has a dwelling for us.” The Trojans, as he ended, all were shouting, And Dido, looking down, made a brief answer: “I am sorry, Trojans; put aside your care, Have no more fear. The newness of the kingdom And our strict need compel to me such measures-- Sentries on every border, far and wide. But who so ignorant as not to know The nation of Aeneas, manly both In deeds and people, and the city of Troy? We are not as dull as that, we folk from Carthage; The sun shines on us here. Whether you seek The land in the west, the sometime fields of Saturn, Or the Sicilian realms and king Acestes, I will help you to the limit; should you wish To settle here and share this kingdom with me, The city I found is yours; draw up your ships; Trojan and Tyrian I treat alike. Would, also, that your king were here, Aeneas, Driven by that same wind. I will send good men Along the coast to seek him, under orders To scour all Libya; he may be wandering Somewhere, in woods or town, surviving shipwreck.”