repairs to the oracle of Faunus, his prophetic sire, to question at the groves beneath Albunea’s shade—that queen of forests, ever vocal with the sacred waters, ever 20 breathing from its dark heart deadly vaporous steam. It is here that the tribes of Italy and all Œnotrian land seek answers in their perplexity; hither the priestess brings the inquirer’s offering, lies in the still of night on a couch of slaughtered sheep’s skins, and turns to sleep, when 25 she sees many phantoms flitting in marvellous fashion, and hears divers voices, and enjoys communion with the gods, and holds converse with Acheron down in Avernus’ deep. Here also king Latinus, in quest of an answer, was sacrificing duly a hundred sheep of the second year, and 30 was lying on their skins, a fleecy bed, when sudden from the depth of the grove an utterance was heard: “Look not to ally your daughter in wedlock of Latium, O my son; put not faith in marriage chambers dressed and ready; there are sons-in-law from a far country now on their way, 35 men destined by mixing their blood with ours to exalt our name to the spheres—men whose lineal posterity shall one day look down and see under their feet the whole world, far as the two oceans which the sun surveys in his daily round, revolving beneath them and wielded by their control.” Such was the response of father Faunus, the counsel given at still of night: nor does Latinus hold it shut in the prison of his own lips; but Fame had flown 5 with the rumour through Ausonia far and wide from city to city, when the young chivalry of old Laomedon anchored their ships on the river’s grassy bank.