than whom never man breathed more just, more eminent
in piety, or in war and martial prowess. If the Fates are
keeping our hero alive—if he is feeding on this upper
air, and not yet lying down in death’s cruel shade—all 25
our fears are over, nor need you be sorry to have made
the first advance in the contest of kindly courtesy. The
realm of Sicily, too, has cities for us, and store of arms,
and a hero-king of Trojan blood, Acestes.[o] Give us leave
but to lay up on shore our storm-beaten fleet, to fashion 30
timber in your forests, and strip boughs for our oars, that,