uld be,
'Neath such a sky I might not hope to make our Italy:
The changed winds roar athwart our course, and from the west grown black
They rise; while o'er the face of heaven gathers the cloudy rack. 20
Nor have we might to draw a-head, nor e'en to hold our own.
Wherefore since Fortune hath prevailed, by way that she hath shown,
Whither she calleth, let us turn: methinks the way but short
To brother-land of Eryx leal and safe Sicanian port,
If I may read the stars aright that erst I bare in mind."

Quoth good AEneas: "Now for long that suchwise would the wind
I saw, and how thou heldest head against it all in vain:
Shift sail and go about; what land may sweeter be to gain,
Or whither would I liefer turn my keels from beat of sea,
Than that which yet the Dardan lord Acestes holds for me, 30
That holds my very father's bones, Anchises, in its breast?"

They seek the haven therewithal, and fair and happy west
Swelleth the sails: o'er whirl of waves full speedily they wend,
And glad to that familiar sand they turn them in the end:
But there Acestes meeteth them, who from a mountain high
All wondering had seen afar the friendly ships draw nigh.
With darts he bristled, and was clad in fell of Libyan bear.
Him erst unto Crimisus' flood a Trojan mother fair
Brought forth: and now, forgetting nought his mother's folk of old,
He welcomes them come back again with wealth of field and fold, 40
And solaces the weary men with plenteous friendly cheer.

But when the stars in first of dawn fled from the morrow clear,
AEneas called upon the shore assembly of his folk,
And standing high aloft on mound such words to tell he spoke:
"O mighty Dardan men, O folk from blood of Godhead born,
The yearly round is all fulfilled, with lapse of months outworn,
Since when my godlike father's husk and bones of him we laid
Amid the mould, and heavy sad the hallowed altars made:
And now meseems the day is here, for evermore to me
A bitter day, a worshipped day.--So God would have it be! 50
Yea should it find me outcast man on great Getulia's sand,
Or take me in the Argive sea, or mid Mycenae's land,
Yet yearly vows, and pomps that come in due recurring while,
Still should I pay, and gifts most meet upon the altar pile.
Now to my father's bones, indeed, and ashes ar