Straight from the grove's deep gloom forth pealed a voice of might:

XIV. "Seek not, my son, a Latin lord. Beware
The purposed bridal. Lo! a foreign guest
Is coming, born to raise thee as thine heir,
And sons of sons shall see their power confessed
From sea to sea, from farthest East to West."
These words, in stillness of the night's noon-tide,
Latinus hears, nor locks them in his breast.
Ausonia's towns have heard them far and wide,
Or ere by Tiber's banks the Dardan fleet doth ride.

XV. Stretched on the grass beneath a tall tree lie
Troy's chief and captains and Iulus fair,
And wheaten platters for their meal supply
('Twas Jove's command), the wilding fruits to bear.
When lack of food has forced them now to tear
The tiny cakes, and tooth and hand with zest
The fateful circles desecrate, nor spare
The sacred squares upon the rounds impressed,
"What! eating boards as well?" Iulus cries in jest.

XVI. 'Twas all; the sally, as we heard it, sealed
Our toils. AEneas caught it, as it flew,
And hushed them, marvelling at the sign revealed.
"Hail! land," he cries, "long destined for our due.
Hail, household deities, to Troy still true!
Here lies our home. Thus, thus, I mind the hour,
Anchises brought Fate's hidden things to view:
'My son, when famine on an unknown shore