“Then, when the deep first looks friendly, and the winds offer a smooth sea, and the south’s gentle whisper invites us to the main, our crews haul down their ships and crowd the shore. We sail out of the harbour, land and 20 town leaving us fast. There is a sacred country with water all round it, chief favourite of the mother of the Nereids and the god of the Ægean. Once it drifted among the coasts and seaboards round about, till the heavenly archer in filial gratitude moored it to the rock of Myconos 25 and to Gyaros, and gave it to be a fixed dwelling-place henceforth, and to laugh at the winds. Hither I sail: here it is that in a sheltered harbour our weary crews find gentlest welcome. We land, and worship the city of Apollo. King Anius, king of men at once and priest of 30 Phœbus, his temples wreathed with fillets and hallowed bay, comes running up; in Anchises he owns an old friend, we knit hand to hand in hospitality and enter his roof. “Behold me now worshipping the temple of the god, built of ancient stone. ‘Give us, god of Thymbra,[147] a home 35 that we can call our own: give us weary men a walled habitation, a posterity, a city that will last: keep from ruin Troy’s second Pergamus, all that was left by the Danaans and their ruthless Achilles! Who is our guide? Whither wouldst thou have us go? where set up our roof-tree? Vouchsafe us a response, great father, and steal with power upon our souls!’