Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/105

Hither we turn our barks at last,
And near his city land;
The anchors from the prows are cast,
The keels are on the strand.

So, given awhile on land to stay,
Our lustral rites to Jove we pay,
And light the votive flames,
And make the shores of Actium gay
With Ilium's festal games.
With pride my merry comrades strip
And oil them for the wrestler's grip,
True to the wont of Troy:
So many Argive towns o'erpast
And flight 'mid circling foes held fast,
O, but the thought was joy!
Meantime the sun rolls round the year,
And winter makes the waters drear.
The brazen circle of a shield
Which mighty Abas wont to wield
I fasten to the temple-gate
And thus my deed commemorate,
'Æneas fixes on these doors
Arms won from Danaan conquerors:'
Then give my crews the word to quit
The port, and on their benches sit.
With emulous zeal they smite the deep
And o'er the wavy level sweep.
Phæacia's heights from view we hide,
And coast along Epirot lands:
Then in Chaonia's arbour ride
Nigh where Buthrotum's city stands.

Arrived, I hear a wondrous thing,
A Grecian crown on Trojan brows: