walls! Ah, hapless race, for what destruction does Fortune reserve you? The seventh summer is now on the wane since Troy’s overthrow and we measure in our course all seas and lands, with many rocks and stars inhospitable, while over the great deep we chase a fleeing Italy and toss upon the waves.

Here are the lands of our brother Eryx, and here is our host Acestes. Who forbids us to cast up walls and give our citizens a city? O fatherland, O household gods, in vain rescued from the foe, shall not town hereafter be called Troy’s? Shall I nowhere see a Xanthus and a Simois, the rivers of Hector? Nay, come! and burn with me these accursed ships. For in my sleep the phantom of Cassandra, the soothsayer, seemed to give me blazing brands: ‘Here seek Troy,’ she said; ‘here is your home.