Breathes counsel in Æneas' ear,
And strives his anxious soul to cheer:
'My chief, let Fate cry on or back,
'Tis ours to follow, nothing slack:
Whate'er betide, he only cures
The stroke of fortune who endures.
Lo here Acestes the divine,
Himself a prince of Dardan line:
Invite his counsel; bid him share
(He will not grudge) your load of care.
Give to his charge the homeless band
That erst our four lost vessels manned,
Whoe'er from high empire[errata 1] recoils
And sickens to partake your toils,
Old men and wayworn dames, and all
That faints and shrinks at danger's call;
Here let the weary set them down,
And build them a Sicilian town:
Let courtesy assert her claim,
And give the place Acestes' name.'
With kindling soul he meditates
The counsel of his friend,
And fiercer still the dire debates
His troubled bosom rend.
Now sable night invests the sky,
When lo! descending from on high
The semblance of Anchises'[errata 2] seemed
To give him counsel as he dreamed:
'My son, more dear, while life remained,
E'en than that life to me,
My son, long exercised and trained
In Ilium's destiny,
My errand is from Jove the sire,
Who saved your vessels from the fire,
