the left and a star shot from heaven, gliding through the darkness, and drawing a fiery trail amid a flood of light.

We watch it glide over the palace roof and bury in Ida’s forest the splendour that marked its path; then the long-drawn furrow shines, and far and wide all about reeks of sulphur. At this, indeed, my father was overcome and, rising to his feet, salutes the gods, and worships the holy star. ‘Now, now there is no delay; I follow, and where you lead, there am I. Gods of my fathers! save my house, save my grandson. Yours is this omen, and under your protection stands Troy. Yes, I yield, and refuse not, my son, to go in your company.’ He ceased, and now through the city more loudly is heard the blaze, and nearer the flames roll their fiery flood.