igh, some with hand roll stones up o'er the ground;
Some choose a place for dwelling-house and draw a trench around;
Some choose the laws, and lords of doom, the holy senate choose.
These thereaway the havens dig, and deep adown sink those
The founding of the theatre walls, or cleave the living stone
In pillars huge, one day to show full fair the scene upon.
As in new summer 'neath the sun the bees are wont to speed 430
Their labour in the flowery fields, whereover now they lead
The well-grown offspring of their race, or when the cells they store
With flowing honey, till fulfilled of sweets they hold no more;
Or take the loads of new-comers, or as a watch well set
Drive off the lazy herd of drones that they no dwelling get;
Well speeds the work, and thymy sweet the honey's odour is.

"Well favoured of the Fates are ye, whose walls arise in bliss!"
AEneas cries, a-looking o'er the housetops spread below;
Then, wonderful to tell in tale, hedged round with cloud doth go
Amid the thickest press of men, and yet of none is seen. 440

A grove amid the town there is, a pleasant place of green,
Where erst the Tyrians, beat by waves and whirling of the wind,
Dug out the token Juno once had bidden them hope to find,
An eager horse's head to wit: for thus their folk should grow
Far-famed in war for many an age, of victual rich enow.
There now did Dido, Sidon-born, uprear a mighty fane
To Juno, rich in gifts, and rich in present godhead's gain:
On brazen steps its threshold rose, and brass its lintel tied,
And on their hinges therewithal the brazen door-leaves cried.
And now within that grove again a new thing thrusting forth 450
'Gan lighten fear; for here to hope AEneas deemed it worth,
And trust his fortune beaten down that yet it might arise.
For there while he abode the Queen, and wandered with his eyes
O'er all the temple, musing on the city's fate to be,
And o'er the diverse handicraft and works of mastery,
Lo there, set out before his face the battles that were Troy's,
And wars, whereof all folk on earth had heard the fame and noise;
King Priam, the Atridae twain, Achilles dire to both.
He stood, and weeping spake withal:
"Achates, lo! forsooth
What place, what land in all the earth but with our grief is stored?