over to my people, then we will have our two kindred cities, our two fraternal nations—the one in Epirus, the other in Hesperia, with a common founder, Dardanus, 25 and a common history—animated by one heart, till they come to be one Troy. Be this the destined care of our posterity!’ “We push on over the sea under Ceraunia’s neighbouring range, whence there is a way to Italy, the shortest 30 course through the water. Meantime the sun drops, and the mountains are veiled in shadow. We stretch ourselves gladly on the lap of earth by the water’s side, having cast lots for the oars, and take our ease dispersedly along the dry beach. Sleep’s dew sprinkles our wearied limbs. Not 35 yet was night’s car entering the middle of its circle, drawn by the unflagging hours, when Palinurus, with no thought of sloth, springs from his bed, explores every wind, and catches with his ears the voices of the air. All the stars he notes, as they swim through the silent sky, looking round on Arcturus, and the showery Hyades, and the twin Bears, and Orion in his panoply of gold. Soon as he sees them all set in a heaven of calm, he gives a clear 5 signal from the stern. We break up our quarters, essay our flight, and spread the wings of our sails. And now the stars were fled, and Aurora[166] was just reddening in the sky, when in the distance we see the dim hills and low plains of Italy. ‘Italy!’ Achates was the first to cry. 10 Italy our crews welcome with a shout of rapture. Then my father, Anchises, wreathed a mighty bowl with a garland, and filled it with wine, and called on the gods, standing upon the tall stern: ‘Ye powers that rule sea and land and weather, waft us a fair wind and a smooth passage, 15 and breathe auspiciously!’ The breeze we wished for freshens; the harbour opens as we near it, and the temple of Minerva is seen crowning the height. The crews furl the sails, and turn their prows coastward. The harbour is curved into an arch by the easterly waves; a 20 barrier of cliffs on each side foams again with the briny spray; between them the haven lies concealed; the towery rocks let down their arms like two walls, and the temple retires from the shore. Here on the grass I saw four horses, the first token of heaven’s will, browsing the 25 meadow at large, of snowy whiteness. And Anchises, my father, breaks forth: ‘War is on thy front, land of the stranger; for war thy horses are prepared; war is threatened by the cattle we see. Still, these beasts no less are trained one day to stoop to the car, and carry harness and curb 30 in harmony with the yoke; yes,’ cries he, ‘there is hope of peace, too.’ With that we make our prayers to the sacred majesty of Pallas, queen of clanging arms, the first