Aeneas and Achates both were eager To break the cloud; the queen inspired their spirit With her address. Achates asked Aeneas:-- “What do we do now, goddess-born? You see They all are safe, our vessels and our comrades, Only one missing, and we saw him drowning, Ourselves, beneath the waves; all other things Confirm what Venus told us.” And as he finished, The cloud around them broke, dissolved in air, Illumining Aeneas, like a god, Light radiant around his face and shoulders, And Venus gave him all the bloom of youth. Its glow, its liveliness, as the artist adds Luster to ivory, or sets in gold Silver or marble. No one saw him coming Until he spoke:--“You seek me; here I am, Trojan Aeneas, saved from the Libyan waves. Worn out by all the perils of land and sea, In need of everything, blown over the great world, A remnant left by the Greeks, Dido, we lack The means to thank our only pitier For offer of a city and a home. If there is justice anywhere, if goodness Means anything to any power, if gods At all regard good people, may they give The great rewards you merit. Happy the age, Happy the parents who have brought you forth! While rivers run to sea, while shadows move Over the mountains, while the stars burn on, Always, your praise, your honor, and your name, Whatever land I go to, will endure.” His hand went out to greet his men, Serestus, Gyas, Cloanthus, Ilioneus, The others in their turn. And Dido marvelled At his appearance, first, and all that trouble He had borne up under; there was a moment’s silence Before she spoke: “What chance, what violence, O goddess-born, has driven you through danger, From grief to grief? Are you indeed that son Whom Venus bore Anchises? I remember When Teucer came to Sidon, as an exile Seeking new kingdoms, and my father helped him, My father, Belus, conqueror of Cyprus. From that time on I have known about your city, Your name, and the Greek kings, and the fall of Troy. Even their enemies would praise the Trojans, Or claim descent from Teucer’s line. I bid you Enter my house. I, too, am fortune-driven Through many sufferings; this land at last Has brought me rest. Not ignorant of evil, I know one thing, at least,--to help the wretched.” And so she led Aeneas to the palace, Proclaiming sacrifice at all the temples In honor of his welcome, and sent presents To his comrades at the shore, a score of bullocks, A hundred swine, a hundred ewes and lambs In honor of the joyous day. The palace, Within, is made most bright with pomp and splendor, The halls prepared for feasting. Crimson covers Are laid, with fine embroidery, and silver Is heavy on the tables; gold, engraven, Recalls ancestral prowess, a tale of heroes From the race’s first beginnings.