The Aeneid by Virgil Book 4 Page 1

But the queen, long since smitten with a grievous love-pang, feeds the wound with her lifeblood, and is wasted with fire unseen. Oft to her mind rushes back the hero’s valour, oft his glorious stock; his looks and words cling fast to her bosom, and longing withholds calm rest from her limbs.

The morrow’s dawn was lighting the earth with the lamp of Phoebus, and had scattered from the sky the dewy shades, when, much distraught, she thus speaks to her sister, sharer of her heart: “Anna, my sister, what dreams thrill me with fears? Who is this stranger guest who ahs entered our home? How noble his mien! How brave in heart and feats of arms! I believe it well – nor is my confidence vain – that he is sprung from gods.

It is fear that proves souls base-born.