This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
70
THE ÆNEID.

Trace out, alas! 'neath Fortune's frown,
The first beginnings of a town,
And from myself as founder call
Æneadæ the rising wall.

To my bright mother's power divine
And all the tenants of the skies,
So might they speed my new design,
I was performing sacrifice,
And on the shore to heaven's high king
A snow-white bull was slaughtering.
A mound was nigh, where spear-like wood
Of cornel and of myrtle stood.
I sought it, and began to spoil
Of that thick growth the high-heaped soil
And deck the altars with its green,
When lo! a ghastly sight was seen.
Soon as a tree from earth I rend,
Dark-flowing drops of blood descend,
And stain the ground with gore:
Fear shakes my frame from head to foot:
A second sapling I uproot,
Resolved to pierce the mystery dark:
See, trickling from a second bark
Blood follows as before!
With many a tumult in my soul,
I prayed the Dryads of the place,
And king Gradivus, whose control
Is felt through all the fields of Thrace,
That they would meliorate the sight
And make this heavy omen light.
But when the third tall shaft I seize,
And 'gainst the hillock press my knees—
Speak shall I, or be mute?—
E'en from the bottom of the mound
Is heard a lamentable sound: