Aeacus’ son, under your guidance did I enter so many seas, skirting mighty lands, the far remote Massylian tribes, and fields the Syrtes fringe; now at last is Italy’s ever receding shore within our grasp; thus far only may Troy’s fortune have followed us!

You, too, many now fitly spare the race of Pergamus, you gods and goddesses all, to whom Troy and Dardania’s great glory were an offence. And you, most holy prophetess, who foreknow the future, grant – I ask no realm unpledged by my fate – that the Teucrians may rest in Latium, with the wandering gods and storm-tossed powers of Troy. Then to Phoebus and Trivia will I set up a temple of solid marble, and festal days in Phoebus’ name. You also a stately shrine awaits in our realm; for here I will place your oracles and mystic