XXVII. "Comrades! of ills not ignorant; far more
Than these ye suffered, and to these as well
Will Jove give ending, as he gave before.
Ye know mad [Scylla,] and her monsters' yell,
And the dark caverns where the [Cyclops] dwell.
Fear not; take heart; hereafter, it may be
These too will yield a pleasant tale to tell.
Through shifting hazards, by the Fates' decree,		235
To Latin shores we steer, our promised land to see.
XXVIII. "There quiet settlements the Fates display,
There Troy her ruined fortunes shall repair.
Bear up; reserve you for a happier day."
He spake, and heart-sick with a load of care,
Suppressed his grief, and feigned a cheerful air.
All straightway gird them to the feast. These flay
The ribs and thighs, and lay the entrails bare.
Those slice the flesh, and split the quivering prey,		244
And tend the fires and set the cauldrons in array.
XXIX. So wine and venison, to their hearts' desire,
Refreshed their strength. And when the feast was sped,
Their missing friends in converse they require,
Doubtful to deem them, betwixt hope and dread,
Alive or out of hearing with the dead.
All mourned, but good Æneas mourned the most,
And bitter tears for Amycus he shed,
Gyas, Cloanthus, bravest of his host,		253
Lycus, Orontes bold, all counted with the lost.

XXX. Now came an end of mourning and of woe,
When Jove, surveying from his prospect high
Shore, sail-winged sea, and peopled earth below,
Stood, musing, on the summit of the sky,
And on the Libyan kingdom fixed his eye,
To him, such cares revolving in his breast,
Her shining eyes suffused with tears, came nigh
Fair Venus, for her darling son distrest,		262
And thus in sorrowing tones the Sire of heaven addressed;
XXXI. "O Thou, whose nod and awful bolts attest
O'er Gods and men thine everlasting reign,
Wherein hath my Æneas so transgressed,
Wherein his Trojans, thus to mourn their slain,
Barred from the world, lest Italy they gain?
Surely from them the rolling years should see
New sons of ancient Teucer rise again,
The Romans, rulers of the land and sea.		271
So swar'st thou; Father, say, why changed is thy decree?

XXXII. "That word consoled me, weighing fate with fate,
For Troy's sad fall. Now Fortune, as before,
Pursues the woe-worn victims of her hate.
O when, great Monarch, shall their toil be o'er?
Safe could [Antenor] pass th' Illyrian shore
Through Danaan hosts, and realms Liburnian gain,
And climb [Timavus] and her springs explore,
Where through nine mouths, with roaring surge, the main		280
Bursts from the sounding rocks and deluges the plain.