LV. Hard by Æolian Lipare, before
Sicania, looms [an island] from the deep,
With smoking rocks. There Ætna's caverns roar,
Hewn by the [Cyclop's] forges from the steep.
There the steel hisses and the sparks upleap,
And clanging anvils, smit with dexterous aim,
Groan through the cavern, as their strokes they heap,
And restless in the furnace pants the flame.		487
'Twas Vulcan's house, the land even yet bears Vulcan's name.

LVI. Down to this cavern came the Lord of Flame,
And found [Pyracmon,] naked as he strove,
[Brontes and Steropes.] Their hands still frame
A thunderbolt unfinished, such as Jove
Rains thickly from his armouries above,
Tipt with twelve barbs and never known to fail.
Part still remain unwrought; three rays they wove
Of ruddy fire, three of the Southern gale,		496
Three of the watery cloud, and three of twisted hail.
LVII. They blend the frightful flashes and the peals,
Sound, fear, and fury with the flames behind.
These forge the War-Gods' chariot and swift wheels,
Which stir up cities, and arouse mankind.
Here, burnished bright for wrathful Pallas, shined,
With serpent scales, and golden links firm bound,
Her dreadful Ægis, and the snakes entwined;
And on her breast, with severed neck, still frowned		505
Medusa's head, and rolled her dying eyes around.
LVIII. "Cease now," said Vulcan, "and these toils forbear,
Cyclops of Ætna; hither turn your heed.
Arms for a hero must the forge prepare.
Now use your strength and nimble hands; ye need
A master's cunning; to your tasks with speed."
He spake; each quickly at the word once more
Falls to his labour, as the lots decreed.
Now flows the copper, now the golden ore;		514
Now melts the deadly steel; the flames resume their roar.
LIX. A mighty shield they fashion, fit to meet
Singly all arms of Latium. Layer on layer,
Seven folds in circles on its face they beat.
These from the windy bellows force the air,
These hissing copper for the forge prepare,
Dipt in the trough. The cavern floor below
Groans with the anvils and the strokes they bear,
As strong arms timed heap measured blow on blow,		523
And, turned with griping tongs, the molten mass doth glow.

LX. While on Æolia's coast the Lemnian sire
Wrought thus, the fair Dawn, mantling in the skies,
Awakes Evander, and the lowly choir
Of birds beneath the eaves invites to rise.
The Tuscan sandals to his feet he ties,
The kirtle dons, the Tegeæan sword
Links to his side. A panther's skin supplies
His scarf, hung leftward, and his watchful ward,		532
Two dogs, the threshold leave, and 'company their lord.
LXI. So to the chamber of his Dardan guest
The good Evander for his promise' sake
Full early hastens pondering in his breast
The tale he listened to, the words he spake.
Nor less Æneas, with the dawn awake,
Goes forth. Achates at his side attends,
His son, young Pallas, doth Evander take.
So meeting, each a willing hand extends,		541
And host and guest sit down, and frankly talk as friends.
LXII. First spake the King: "Great Chief of Trojan fame,
Who living, ne'er the Trojan state is lost.
Small is our strength for war, though great our name.
Here Tiber bounds us, there Rutulians boast
To rend our walls, and thunder with their host.
But mighty tribes and wealthy realms shall band
Their arms with mine. Chance, where unlooked-for most,
Points to this succour. By the Fate's command		550
Thou comest; thee the gods have guided to our land.