Soon as my shuddering ceased, I told this taleOf prodigies before the people’s chiefs,Who sat in conclave with my kingly sire,And bade them speak their reverend counsel forth.  85All found one voice; to leave that land of sin,Where foul abomination had profanedA stranger’s right; and once more to resignOur fleet unto the tempest and the wave.But fit and solemn funeral rites were paid  90To Polydorus. A high mound we rearedOf heaped-up earth, and to his honored shadeBuilt a perpetual altar, sadly drestIn cypress dark and purple pall of woe.Our Ilian women wailed with loosened hair;  95New milk was sprinkled from a foaming cup,And from the shallow bowl fresh blood out-pouredUpon the sacred ground. So in its tombWe laid his ghost to rest, and loudly sang,With prayer for peace, the long, the last farewell.  100

After these things, when first the friendly seaLooked safe and fair, and o’er its tranquil plainLight-whispering breezes bade us launch away,My men drew down our galleys to the brine,Thronging the shore. Soon out of port we ran,  105And watched the hills and cities fading far.

There is a sacred island in mid-seas,To fruitful Doris and to Neptune dear,Which grateful Phœbus, wielder of the bow,The while it drifted loose from land to land,  110Chained firmly where the crags of GyarosAnd Myconos uptower, and bade it restImmovable, in scorn of wind and wave.Thither I sped; by this my weary shipsFound undisturbed retreat and haven fair.  115To land we came and saw with reverent eyesApollo’s citadel. King Anius,His people’s king, and priest at Phœbus’ fane,Came forth to meet us, wearing on his browThe fillets and a holy laurel crown.  120Unto Anchises he gave greeting kind,Claimed old acquaintance, grasped us by the hand,And bade us both his roof and welcome share.

Then, kneeling at the shrine of time-worn stone:“Thou who at Thymbra on the Trojan shore  125“Hast often blessed my prayer, O, give to me“A hearth and home, and to this war-worn band“Defensive towers and offspring multiplied

“In an abiding city; give to Troy“A second citadel, that shall survive  130“Achilles’ wrath and all our Argive foe.“Whom shall we follow? Whither lies our way?“Where wilt thou grant us an abiding-place?“Send forth, O King, thy voice oracular,“And on our spirits move.” Scarce had I spoke  135When sudden trembling through the laurels ranAnd smote the holy portals; far and wideThe mighty ridges of the mountain shook,And from the opening shrine the tripod moaned.Prostrate to earth we fall, as on our ears  140This utterance breaks: “O breed of iron men,“Ye sons of Dardanus! the self-same land“Where bloomed at first your far-descended stem“Shall to its bounteous bosom draw ye home.“Seek out your ancient Mother! There at last  145“Æneas’ race shall reign on every shore,“And his sons’ sons, and all their house to be.”