In such a temple of the Gods, in such a house of kings, Latinus sat when he had called those Teucrian fellows in, And from his quiet mouth and grave such converse did begin: "What seek ye, sons of Dardanus? for not unknown to me Is that your city or your blood; and how ye crossed the sea, That have I heard. But these your ships, what counsel or what lack Hath borne them to Ausonian strand o'er all the blue sea's back? If ye have strayed from out your course, or, driven by stormy tide (For such things oft upon the sea must seafarers abide), 200 Have entered these our river-banks in haven safe to lie, Flee not our welcome, nor unknown the Latin folk pass by; The seed of Saturn, bound to right by neither law nor chain, But freely following in the ways whereof the God was fain. Yea now indeed I mind a tale, though now with years outworn, How elders of Aurunce said that mid these fields was born That Dardanus, who reached at last the Phrygian Ida's walls, And Thracian Samos, that the world now Samothracia calls: From Tuscan stead of Corythus he went upon his ways; Whose throne is set in golden heaven, the star-besprinkled place, 210 Who adds one other to the tale of altared deities." He ended, but Ilioneus followed in words like these: "O king, O glorious Faunus' child, no storm upon the main Drave us amid the drift of waves your country coast to gain; And neither star nor strand made blind the region of our road; But we by counsel and free will have sought out thine abode, Outcast from such a realm as once was deemed the mightiest The Sun beheld, as o'er the heaven she ran from east to west. Jove is the well-spring of our race; the Dardan children joy In Jove for father; yea, our king, Æneas out of Troy, 220 Who sends us to thy door, himself is of the Highest's seed. How great a tempest was let loose o'er our Idæan mead, From dire Mycenæ Sent; what fate drave either clashing world, Europe and Asia, till the war each against each they hurled, His ears have heard, who dwells afar upon the land alone That ocean beats; and his no less the bondman of the zone, That midmost lieth of the four, by cruel sun-blaze worn. Lo, from that flood we come to thee, o'er waste of waters borne, Praying a strip of harmless shore our House-Gods' home to be, And grace of water and of air to all men lying free. 230 We shall not foul our land's renown; and thou, thy glory fair We know, and plenteous fruit of thanks this deed of thine shall bear: Nor ever may embrace of Troy Ausonia's soul despite. Now by Æneas' fates I swear, and by his hand of might, Whether in troth it hath been tried, or mid the hosts of war, That many folks--yea, scorn us not that willingly we bore These fillets in our hands today with words beseeching peace--