He draws the vital air of heav’n, and lies not low
Amid the gloomy shades, fear not, and let it not
Repent thee that in deeds of mercy thou didst strive
To be the first. We still possess both towns and lands
Upon Sicilia’s isle; Acestes too, renowned,
And born of Trojan blood, is ours. Our only prayer,
That we may draw our shattered fleet upon the shore,
And in the forest shade renew our weakened beams
And broken oars. That thus, if to Italia’s realms,
Our comrades and our king regained, ‘t is ours again