LXXVIII. Scarce had he said, when straight the ambient cloud
Broke open, melting into day's clear light,
And bathed in sunshine stood the chief, endowed
With shape and features most divinely bright.
For graceful tresses and the purple light
Of youth did Venus in her child unfold,
And sprightly lustre breathed upon his sight,
Beauteous as ivory, or when artists mould		694
Silver or Parian stone, enchased in yellow gold.
LXXIX. Then to the queen, all wondering, he exclaimed,
"Behold me, Troy's Æneas; I am here,
The man ye seek, from Libyan waves reclaimed.
Thou, who alone Troy's sorrows deign'st to hear,
And us, the gleanings of the Danaan spear,
Poor world-wide wanderers and in desperate case,
Hast ta'en to share thy city and thy cheer,
Meet thanks nor we, nor what of Dardan race		703
Yet roams the earth, can give to recompense thy grace.
LXXX. "The gods, if gods the good and just regard,
And thy own conscience, that approves the right,
Grant thee due guerdon and a fit reward.
What happy ages did thy birth delight?
What godlike parents bore a child so bright?
While running rivers hasten to the main,
While yon pure ether feeds the stars with light,
While shadows round the hill-slopes wax and wane,		712
Thy fame, where'er I go, thy praises shall remain."

LXXXI. So saying Æneas with his left hand pressed
Serestus, and Ilioneus with his right,
Brave Gyas, brave Cloanthus and the rest.
Then Dido, struck with wonder at the sight
Of one so great and in so strange a plight,
"O Goddess-born! what fate through dangers sore,
What force to savage coasts compels thy flight?
Art thou, then, that Æneas, whom of yore		721
Venus on Simois' banks to old Anchises bore?

LXXXII. "Ay, well I mind me how in days of yore
To Sidon exiled [Teucer] crossed the main,
To seek new kingdoms and the aid implore
Of Belus. He, my father Belus, then
Ruled Cyprus, victor of the wasted plain,
Since then thy name and Ilion's fate are known,
And all the princes of Pelasgia's reign.
Himself, a foe, oft lauded Troy's renown,		730
And claimed the Teucrian sires as kinsmen of his own.
LXXXIII. "Welcome, then, heroes! Me hath Fortune willed
Long tost, like you, through sufferings, here to rest
And find at length a refuge. Not unskilled
In woe, I learn to succour the distrest."
So to the palace she escorts her guest,
And calls for festal honours in the shrine.
Then shoreward sends beeves twenty to the rest,
A hundred boars, of broad and bristly chine,		739
A hundred lambs and ewes and gladdening gifts of wine.
LXXXIV. Meanwhile with regal splendour they arrayed
The palace-hall, where feast and banquet high
All in the centre of the space is laid,
And forth they bring the broidered tapestry,
With purple dyed and wrought full cunningly.
The tables groan with silver; there are told
The deeds of prowess for the gazer's eye,
A long, long series, of their sires of old,		748
Traced from the nation's birth, and graven in the gold.
LXXXV. But good Æneas—for a father's care
No rest allows him—to the ships sends down
Achates, to Ascanius charged to bear
The welcome news, and bring him to the town.
The father's fondness centres on the son.
Rich presents, too, he sends for, saved of old
From Troy, a veil, whose saffron edges shone
Fringed with acanthus, glorious to behold,		757
A broidered mantle, stiff with figures wrought in gold.