“Upon these shores
The Arcadians, a race born from Pallas
Followers of King Evander, chose a spot,
And built a city on a rising hill,
Called Pallanteum, from their ancestor.
These with the Latin race wage ceaseless war.
Take them for friends, and make a league with them.”
“How joyfully do I receive and greet you,
Bravest of Trojans; and how I recall
Your sire Anchises’ words, and tones, and face!
The sound and promise that his mother gave.
“Seek not, my host,” he says, “seek not to know
The event these prodigies portend: it is I
The heavens demand. This is the promised sign
My goddess mother gives, should war impend,
That she would aid me, bringing through the skies
“See, O my son, the promised word complete,
Wrought by my husband’s skill; do not now fear
To challenge to the fight the haughty sons
Of Latnium, or to confront the fierce Turnus.”