If gods are gods, and not invok'd in vain;
Yet spare the relics of the Trojan train!

Yet from the flames our burning vessels free,
Or let thy fury fall alone on me!

At this devoted head thy thunder throw,
And send the willing sacrifice below!"

Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise:
From pole to pole the forky lightning flies;

Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain;
Heav'n bellies downward, and descends in rain.

Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent,
Which, hissing thro' the planks, the flames prevent,

And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone
Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone.

But doubtful thoughts the hero's heart divide;
If he should still in Sicily reside,

Forgetful of his fates, or tempt the main,
In hope the promis'd Italy to gain.

Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone
The will of Heav'n by Pallas was foreshown;

Vers'd in portents, experienc'd, and inspir'd
To tell events, and what the fates requir'd;

Thus while he stood, to neither part inclin'd,
With cheerful words reliev'd his lab'ring mind:

"O goddess-born, resign'd in ev'ry state,
With patience bear, with prudence push your fate.

By suff'ring well, our Fortune we subdue;
Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue.

Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind;
To him disclose the secrets of your mind:

Trust in his hands your old and useless train;
Too num'rous for the ships which yet remain:

The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease,
The dames who dread the dangers of the seas,

With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand
The shock of battle with your foes by land.

Here you may build a common town for all,
And, from Acestes' name, Acesta call."

The reasons, with his friend's experience join'd,
Encourag'd much, but more disturb'd his mind.

'T was dead of night; when to his slumb'ring eyes
His father's shade descended from the skies,

And thus he spoke: "O more than vital breath,
Lov'd while I liv'd, and dear ev'n after death;

O son, in various toils and troubles toss'd,
The King of Heav'n employs my careful ghost

On his commands: the god, who sav'd from fire
Your flaming fleet, and heard your just desire.

The wholesomecounsel of your friend receive,
And here the coward train and woman leave:

The chosen youth, and those who nobly dare,
Transport, to tempt the dangers of the war.

The stern Italians will their courage try;
Rough are their manners, and their minds are high.

But first to Pluto's palace you shall go,
And seek my shade among the blest below:

For not with impious ghosts my soul remains,
Nor suffers with the damn'd perpetual pains,

But breathes the living air of soft Elysian plains.
The chaste Sibylla shall your steps convey,

And blood of offer'd victims free the way.
There shall you know what realms the gods assign,

And learn the fates and fortunes of your line.
But now, farewell! I vanish with the night,

And feel the blast of heav'n's approaching light."
He said, and mix'd with shades, and took his airy flight.

"Whither so fast?" the filial duty cried;
"And why, ah why, the wish'd embrace denied?"

He said, and rose; as holy zeal inspires,
He rakes hot embers, and renews the fires;

His country gods and Vesta then adores
With cakes and incense, and their aid implores.

Next, for his friends and royal host he sent,
Reveal'd his vision, and the gods' intent,

With his own purpose. All, without delay,
The will of Jove, and his desires obey.

They list with women each degenerate name,
Who dares not hazard life for future fame.

These they cashier: the brave remaining few,
Oars, banks, and cables, half consum'd, renew.

The prince designs a city with the plow;
The lots their sev'ral tenements allow.

This part is nam'd from Ilium, that from Troy,
And the new king ascends the throne with joy;

A chosen senate from the people draws;
Appoints the judges, and ordains the laws.

Then, on the top of Eryx, they begin
A rising temple to the Paphian queen.

Anchises, last, is honor'd as a god;
A priest is added, annual gifts bestow'd,

And groves are planted round his blest abode.
Nine days they pass in feasts, their temples crown'd;

And fumes of incense in the fanes abound.
Then from the south arose a gentle breeze

That curl'd the smoothness of the glassy seas;
The rising winds a ruffling gale afford,

And call the merry mariners aboard.
Now loud laments along the shores resound,

Of parting friends in close embraces bound.
The trembling women, the degenerate train,

Who shunn'd the frightful dangers of the main,
Ev'n those desire to sail, and take their share

Of the rough passage and the promis'd war:
Whom good Aeneas cheers, and recommends

To their new master's care his fearful friends.
On Eryx's altars three fat calves he lays;

A lamb new-fallen to the stormy seas;
Then slips his haulsers, and his anchors weighs.

High on the deck the godlike hero stands,
With olive crown'd, a charger in his hands;

Then cast the reeking entrails in the brine,
And pour'd the sacrifice of purple wine.

Fresh gales arise; with equal strokes they vie,
And brush the buxom seas, and o'er the billows fly.

Meantime the mother goddess, full of fears,
To Neptune thus address'd, with tender tears:

"The pride of Jove's imperious queen, the rage,
The malice which no suff'rings can assuage,

Compel me to these pray'rs; since neither fate,
Nor time, nor pity, can remove her hate:

Ev'n Jove is thwarted by his haughty wife;
Still vanquish'd, yet she still renews the strife.

As if 't were little to consume the town
Which aw'd the world, and wore th' imperial crown,

She prosecutes the ghost of Troy with pains,
And gnaws, ev'n to the bones, the last remains.

Let her the causes of her hatred tell;