Now is this all my tongue is moved to tell thee lawfully: Go, let thy deeds Troy's mightiness exalt above the sky!' So when the seer from loving mouth such words as this had said, Then gifts of heavy gold and gifts of carven tooth he bade Be borne a-shipboard; and our keels he therewithal doth stow With Dodonæan kettle-ware and silver great enow, A coat of hookèd woven mail and triple golden chain, A helm with noble towering crest crowned with a flowing mane, The arms of Pyrrhus: gifts most meet my father hath withal; And steeds he gives and guides he gives, 470 Fills up the tale of oars, and arms our fellows to their need. Anchises still was bidding us meanwhile to have a heed Of setting sail, nor with the wind all fair to make delay; To whom with words of worship now doth Phoebus' servant say: 'Anchises, thou whom Venus' bed hath made so glorious, Care of the Gods, twice caught away from ruin of Pergamus, Lo, there the Ausonian land for thee, set sail upon the chase: Yet needs must thou upon the sea glide by its neighbouring face. Far off is that Ausonia yet that Phoebus open lays. Fare forth, made glad with pious son! why tread I longer ways 480 Of speech, and stay the rising South with words that I would tell?' And therewithal Andromache, sad with the last farewell, Brings for Ascanius raiment wrought with picturing wool of gold, And Phrygian coat; nor will she have our honour wax acold, But loads him with the woven gifts, and such word sayeth she: 'Take these, fair boy; keep them to be my hands' last memory, The tokens of enduring love thy younger days did win From Hector's wife Andromache, the last gifts of thy kin. O thou, of my Astyanax the only image now! Such eyes he had, such hands he had, such countenance as thou, 490 And now with thee were growing up in equal tale of years.' Then I, departing, spake to them amid my rising tears: 'Live happy! Ye with fortune's game have nothing more to play, While we from side to side thereof are hurried swift away. Your rest hath blossomed and brought forth; no sea-field shall ye till, Seeking the fields of Italy that fade before you still. Ye see another Xanthus here, ye see another Troy, Made by your hands for better days mehopes, and longer joy: And soothly less it lies across the pathway of the Greek, If ever I that Tiber flood and Tiber fields I seek 500 Shall enter, and behold the walls our folk shall win of fate. Twin cities some day shall we have, and folks confederate, Epirus and Hesperia; from Dardanus each came, One fate had each: them shall we make one city and the same, One Troy in heart: lo, let our sons of sons' sons see to it!'