And digging here, a prosperous omen found: From under earth a courser's head they drew, Their growth and future fortune to foreshew: This fated sign their foundress Juno gave, Of a soil fruitful, and a people brave. Sidonian Dido here with solemn state Did Juno's temple build, and consecrate, Enriched with gifts, and with a golden shrine; But more the goddess made the place divine. On brazen steps the marble threshold rose, And brazen plates the cedar beams inclose: The rafters are with brazen coverings crowned; The lofty doors on brazen hinges sound. What first Æneas in this place beheld, Revived his courage, and his fear expelled. For--while, expecting there the queen, he raised His wondering eyes, and round the temple gazed, Admired the fortune of the rising town, The striving artists, and their art's renown-- He saw, in order painted on the wall, Whatever did unhappy Troy befall-- The wars that fame around the world had blown, All to the life, and every leader known. There Agamemnon, Priam here, he spies, And fierce Achilles, who both kings defies. He stopped, and weeping said,--"O friend! even here The monuments of Trojan woes appear! Our known disasters fill even foreign lands: See there, where old unhappy Priam stands! Even the mute walls relate the warrior's fame, And Trojan griefs the Tyrians pity claim." He said, (his tears a ready passage find,) } Devouring what he saw so well designed, } And with an empty picture fed his mind: } For there he saw the fainting Grecians yield, And here the trembling Trojans quit the field, Pursued by fierce Achilles through the plain, On his high chariot driving o'er the slain. The tents of Rhesus next his grief renew, By their white sails betrayed to nightly view; And wakeful Diomede, whose cruel sword The centries slew, nor spared their slumbering lord, Then took the fiery steeds, ere yet the food Of Troy they taste, or drink the Xanthian flood. Elsewhere he saw where Troïlus defied Achilles, and unequal combat tried; Then, where the boy disarmed, with loosened reins, Was by his horses hurried o'er the plains, Hung by the neck and hair; and, dragged around, } The hostile spear yet sticking in his wound, } With tracks of blood inscribed the dusty ground. } Meantime the Trojan dames, oppressed with woe, } To Pallas' fane in long procession go, } In hopes to reconcile their heavenly foe. } They weep, they beat their breasts, they rend their hair, } And rich embroidered vests for presents bear; } But the stern goddess stands unmoved with prayer. } Thrice round the Trojan walls Achilles drew The corpse of Hector, whom in fight he slew. Here Priam sues; and there, for sums of gold, The lifeless body of his son is sold.