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At once he summons to his side
Acestes and his comrades tried,
Jove's mandate and his sire's unfolds,
And how at length his purpose holds.
No long debates the deed delay,
Nor good Acestes says him nay.
Forthwith the matrons they enrol,
First dwellers in the new-planned town,
And disembark each weary soul
That thirsts no more for high renown.
Themselves the fire-charred planks renew,
The benches and the decks repair,
Equip with oars each vessel's crew,
And rig the masts with studious care,
A gallant band, in number few,
In spirit resolute to dare.

Meantime Æneas draws the lines
Of the new town, its homes assigns:
Each place receives a name to bear,
And here 'tis Troy, and Ilium there.
Acestes, genuine son of Troy,
Assumes the sovereignty with joy,
Holds trial of each doubtful cause,
And gives the infant senate laws.
On Eryx' top a fane they raise
To mate the stars, in Venus' praise,
And with a priest and grove they grace
Anchises' hallowed resting-place.

And now the nine days' feast is o'er,
The sacred rites complete;
The hushed gales smooth the watery floor;
The south-wind, freshening from the shore,
Invites the lingering fleet.