CXVI. Then thus AEneas spoke, for, passing by, He saw a comely youth, in bright array Of glittering arms; yet downcast was his eye, Joyless and damp his face; "O father, say, Who companies the hero on his way? His son? or scion of his stock renowned? What peerless excellence his looks display! What stir, what whispers in the crowd around! But gloomy Night's sad shades his youthful brows surround." CXVII. Weeping, the Sire: "Seek not, my son, to weigh Thy children's mighty sorrow. Him shall Fate Just show to earth, but suffer not to stay. Too potent Heaven had deemed the Roman state, Were gifts like this as permanent as great. Ah! what laments, what groanings of the brave Shall fill the field of Mars! What funeral state Shall Tiber see, as past the recent grave Slowly and sad he winds his melancholy wave! CXVIII. "No Trojan youth of such illustrious worth Shall raise the hopes of Latin sires so high. Ne'er shall the land of Romulus henceforth Look on a fosterling with prouder eye. O filial love! O faith of days gone by! O hand unconquered! None had hoped to bide Unscathed his onset, nor his arm defy, When, foot to foot, the murderous sword he plied, Or dug with iron heel his foaming charger's side. CXIX. "Ah! child of tears! can'st thou again be free And burst Fate's cruel bondage, Rome shall know Her own Marcellus, reappeared in thee. Go, fill your hands with lilies; let me strow The purple blossoms where he lies below. These gifts, at least, in sorrow will I lay, To grace my kinsman's spirit, thus--but oh! Alas, how vainly!--to the thankless clay These unavailing dues, these empty offerings pay." CXX. Twain are the gates of Sleep; one framed, 'tis said, Of horn, which easy exit doth invite For real shades to issue from the dead. One with the gleam of polished ivory bright, Whence only lying visions leave the night. Through this Anchises, talking by the way, Sends forth the son and Sibyl to the light. Back hastes AEneas to his friends, and they Straight to Caieta steer, and anchor in her bay. BOOK SEVEN ARGUMENT