And safely to regain your native Shores.
But my dear Daughter to her Sire restore,
These Gifts accept, and dread Apollo's Pow'r;
The Son of Jove; he bears a mighty Bow,
And from afar his Arrows gall the Foe.
Æneid.
Arms and the Man I sing, the first who driv'n
From Trojan Shores, the Fugitive of Heav'n,
Came to th' Italian and Lavinian Coast;
Much o'er the Earth was He, and Ocean tost,