you. And now farewell; dewy Night wheels her midway course, and the cruel East has breathed on me with panting steeds.” He spoke, and passed like smoke into thin air.

“Where are you rushing now?” cries Aeneas. “Where are you hurrying? Whom do you flee, or who bars you from our embraces?” So speaking, he rouses the embers of the slumbering fires, and with holy meal and full censer humbly worships the Lar of Troy and the shrine of hoary Vesta.

Straightway he summons his comrades – Acestes first – and instructs them of Jove’s command, the counsel of his dear father, and the resolve now settled in his soul. Not long is their debate; nor does Acestes refuse his bidding. They enroll the matrons for the town, and set on shore the folk who wish it so –