Such tale she poured forth, weeping sore, and long she wept in vain Great floods of tears: when lo, from out the city draweth nigh Lord Helenus the Priam-born midst mighty company, And knows his kin, and joyfully leads onward to his door, Though many a tear 'twixt broken words the while doth he outpour. So on; a little Troy I see feigned from great Troy of fame, A Pergamus, a sandy brook that hath the Xanthus name, 350 On threshold of a Scæan gate I stoop to lay a kiss. Soon, too, all Teucrian folk are wrapped in friendly city's bliss, And them the King fair welcomes in amid his cloisters broad, And they amidmost of the hall the bowls of Bacchus poured, The meat was set upon the gold, and cups they held in hand. So passed a day and other day, until the gales command The sails aloft, and canvas swells with wind from out the South: Therewith I speak unto the seer, such matters in my mouth: 'O Troy-born, O Gods' messenger, who knowest Phoebus' will, The tripods and the Clarian's bay, and what the stars fulfil, 360 And tongues of fowl, and omens brought by swift foreflying wing, Come, tell the tale! for of my way a happy heartening thing All shrines have said, and all the Gods have bid me follow on To Italy, till outland shores, far off, remote were won: Alone Celæno, Harpy-fowl, new dread of fate set forth, Unmeet to tell, and bade us fear the grimmest day of wrath, And ugly hunger. How may I by early perils fare? Or doing what may I have might such toil to overbear?' So Helenus, when he hath had the heifers duly slain, Prays peace of Gods, from hallowed head he doffs the bands again, 370 And then with hand he leadeth me, O Phoebus, to thy door, My fluttering soul with all thy might of godhead shadowed o'er. There forth at last from God-loved mouth the seer this word did send: