The story ran That no one lived in Crete, Idomeneus Having left his father’s kingdom, that the houses Were empty now, dwellings vacated for us. We sailed from Delos, flying over the water Past Naxos, on whose heights the Bacchae revel, Past green Donysa, snowy Paros, skimming The passages between the sea-sown islands. No crew would yield to another; there is shouting, And the cheer goes up, ‘To Crete, and the land of our fathers!’ A stern wind follows, and we reach the land. I am glad to be there; I lay out the walls For the chosen city, name it Pergamea, And the people are happy. _Love your hearths_, I told them, _Build high the citadel_. The ships were steadied On the dry beach, the young were busy ploughing, Or planning marriage, and I was giving laws, Assigning homes. But the weather turned, the sky Grew sick, and from the tainted heaven came Pestilence and pollution, a deadly year For people and harvest. Those who were not dying Dragged weary bodies around; the Dog-Star scorched The fields to barrenness; grass withered, corn Refused to ripen. ‘Over the sea again!’ My father said, ‘let us return to Delos, Consult the oracle, implore Apollo To show us kindliness; what end awaits Our weary destiny, where does he bid us turn For help in trouble?’ Sleep held all creatures over the earth at rest; In my own darkness visions came, the sacred Images of the household gods I had carried With me from Troy, out of the burning city. I saw them plain, in the flood of light, where the moon Streamed through the dormers. And they eased me, saying: ‘Apollo would tell you this, if you went over The sea again to Delos; from him we come To you, with willing spirit. We came with you From the burnt city, we have followed still The swollen sea in the ships; in time to come We shall raise your sons to heaven, and dominion Shall crown their city. Prepare to build them walls, Great homes for greatness; do not flee the labor, The long, long toil of flight. Crete, says Apollo, Is not the place. There is a land in the West, Called by the Greeks, Hesperia: anciency And might in arms and wealth enrich its soil. The Oenotrians lived there once; now, rumor has it, A younger race has called it Italy After the name of a leader, Italus. Dardanus came from there, our ancestor, As Iasius was. There is our dwelling-place. Be happy, then, waken, and tell Anchises Our certain message: seek the land in the West. Crete is forbidden country.’