with its brood of unborn empires, and the war-cry
bursting from its heart—who should carry down a line
sprung from the grand fountain-head of Teucer’s blood,
and should force the whole world to bow to the laws[176] he 15
makes. If he is fired by no spark of ambition for greatness
like this, and will not rear a toilsome fabric for his own
praise, is it a father’s heart that grudges Ascanius the hills
of Rome? What is he building? What does he look to
in lingering on among a nation of enemies, with no thought 20
for the great Ausonian family, or for the fields of Lavinium?