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And gently wind thick groves between
That lend the wave a deeper green.
The sun was at his midday height,
When tower and rampire loom in sight,
And dwellings thinly strown:
Now to the skies Rome's power makes soar
That city: then 'twas scant and poor,
Evander's humble throne.
Soon as they see, to land they steer
Their ships, and to the town draw near.

The Arcadian monarch chanced that day
A high solemnity to pay
Before the city, in a grove,
To Hercules, the seed of Jove.
His rustic senators are there,
And Pallas too, his kingdom's heir,
With censers charged: the spilt life-stream
Sends up a sacrificial steam.
Soon as the gallant ships they saw
Mid the thick forest nearer draw
In still swift cadence oared,
A sudden terror takes their eyes:
In wild confusion all uprise
And quit the banquet-board.
Bold Pallas chides their panic start,
Takes in his hand a beamy dart,
And from a mound afar
'Speak, gallant youths! what cause' he cries
'Has driven you here on strange emprise?
What seek you as your journey's aim?
Say, what your home, your race, your name:
Or bring you peace, or war?'
Æneas from the lofty stern
With outstretched olive makes return: