haven void of folk, the ships unheeded lie.
But far away on lonely beach the Trojan women weep
The lost Anchises; and all they look ever on the deep
Amid their weeping: "Woe are we! what waters yet abide!
What ocean-waste for weary folk!" So one and all they cried,
And all they yearn for city's rest: sea-toil is loathsome grown.

So she, not lacking craft of guile, amidst them lighted down,
When she hath put away from her God's raiment and God's mien,
And but as wife of Doryclus, the Tmarian man, is seen, 620
Old Beroe, who once had sons and lordly race and name;
Amid the Dardan mother-folk such wise the Goddess came:

"O wretched ones!" she said, "O ye whom armed Achaean hand
Dragged not to death before the walls that stayed your fatherland!
Unhappy folk! and why hath Fate held back your doom till now?
The seventh year is on the turn since Troy-town's overthrow;
And we all seas the while, all lands, all rocks and skies that hate
The name of guest, have wandered o'er, and through the sea o'ergreat
Still chase that fleeing Italy mid wallowing waters tossed.
Lo, here is Eryx' brother-land; Acestes is our host; 630
What banneth us to found our walls and lawful cities gain?
O Fatherland! O House-Gods snatched from midst the foe in vain!
Shall no walls more be called of Troy? Shall I see never more
Xanthus or Simois, like the streams where Hector dwelt of yore?
Come on, and those unhappy ships burn up with aid of me;
For e'en now mid the dreams of sleep Cassandra did I see,
Who gave me burning brand, and said, 'Here seek your Troy anew:
This is the house that ye shall have.'--And now is time to do!
No tarrying with such tokens toward! Lo, altars four are here
Of Neptune: very God for us heart and the fire doth bear!" 640

So saying, first she caught upon the fiery bane, and raised
Her hand aloft, and mightily she whirled it as it blazed
And cast it: but the Ilian wives, their straining hearts are torn,
Their souls bewildered: one of them, yea, and their eldest-born,
Pyrgo, the queenly fosterer of many a Priam's son,
Cried: "Mothers, nay no Beroe, nay no Rhoeteian one,
The wife of Doryclus is this: lo, Godhead's beauty there!
Behold the gleaming of her eyes, note how she breathes the air;
Note ye her countenance and voice, the gait wher