Thus, as Ilioneus is speaking, Latinus holds his countenance 15
in set downcast gaze, and sits rooted to his throne,
turning his eyes in intense thought. Nor does the
broidered purple stir his princely mind; no, nor the sceptre
of Priam, so deeply as he ponders on the wedlock, the
bridal bed of his daughter, revolving in his breast old 20
Faunus’ oracle. This must be that predicted son-in-law,
arrived from a foreign home, destined to reign in joint
sovereignty with himself; thence must be born that glorious
progeny, whose prowess is to master the world. At