CII. Forthwith he tells Acestes, then the crews,
Jove's will, his father's counsel and his own.
All vote assent, nor doth his host refuse.
No tarrying now; they write the matrons down,
And all who faint or care not for renown
They leave behind,—the idlers of each crew,
But willing settlers in the new-planned town.
These the charred timbers and the thwarts renew,		910
Shape oars and fit the ropes; a gallant band, but few.

CIII. Æneas with a ploughshare marks the town,
And, homes allotting, gives each place a name,
Here Troy, there Ilion. Pleased to wear the crown,
A forum good Acestes hastes to frame,
And laws to gathered senators proclaim.
Rear'd high on Eryx, to the stars ascends
A temple, to [Idalian Venus'] fame.
A priest Anchises' sepulchre attends,		919
A grove's far sacred shade his hallowed dust defends.
CIV. The rites are paid, the nine-days' feast is o'er,
Smooth lies the deep, and Southern winds invite
The mariners. Along the winding shore
Loud rise the sounds of sorrow, day and night,
Where friends, clasped close in lingering undelight,
Weep at the thought of parting. Matrons, ay,
And men, who lately shuddered at the sight,
And loathed the name of Ocean, scorn to stay,		928
And willing hearts now brave the long, laborious way.
CV. Kindly Æneas cheers them, and with tears
Leaves to their King, then, parting, gives command
A lamb to slay to tempest, and three steers
To Eryx. So they loosen from the land.
He on the prow, a charger in his hand,
Flings forth the entrails, and outpours the wine,
And, crowned with olive chaplet, takes his stand.
Up-springs the favouring stern breeze, as in line		937
With emulous sweep of oars, they brush the level brine.
CVI. Then Venus, torn with anguish and desire,
Spake thus to Neptune, and her grief confessed:
"O Neptune, Juno's unrelenting ire,
The quenchless malice, that consumes her breast,
Constrains me thus to urge a suppliant's quest;
And stoop, with humbled majesty, to sue.
Her neither piety nor Jove's behest
Nor time, nor Fate can soften or subdue,		946
Still doth immortal hate the Phrygian race pursue.
CVII. "'Tis not enough their city to destroy,
And wear their remnant with remorseless pain,
Needs must she trample on the dust of Troy.
She best, forsooth, her fury can explain.
But thou,—thou know'st how on the Libyan main,—
Thine eyes beheld it from thy throne on high,—
Lately she stirred the tumult, and in vain
Armed with Æolian tempests, sea and sky		955
Mixed in rebellious wrath, thy sceptre to defy.
CVIII. "All this she ventured in thy realm; nay more,
Her rage hath filled the matrons, fired the fleet,
And left these crews upon an alien shore,
Reft of their friends, and baffled of retreat.
O spare this Trojan remnant, I entreat;
Safe in thy guidance let them sail the main,
And scatheless reach their promised walls, and greet
Laurentian Tiber and the Latian plain,		964
If what I ask be just, and so the Fates ordain."
CIX. Then spake the Monarch of the deep: "'Tis just
To look for safety to my realm, that gave
Thee birth; and well have I deserved thy trust,
Who oft have stilled the raging wind and wave;
Nor less on land have interposed, to save—
Xanthus and Simois I attest again—
Thy darling son, when back Achilles drave
Troy's breathless host, and rivers, choked with slain,		973
Groaned, ay, and Xanthus scarce could struggle to the main.
CX. "Then, as with adverse Gods and feebler power
He faced Pelides, in a cloud I caught
Thy favourite, albeit 'twas the hour
When, wroth with perjured Ilion, I sought
To raze the walls these very hands had wrought.
Fear not; unaltered doth my will remain.
Safe shall he be into this haven brought.
One, only one, for many shall be slain;		982
One in the deep thy son shall look for, but in vain."