Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/96

Bowls frothing warm with milk we pour
And cups of sacrificial gore,
Lay in the tomb the ghost to sleep,
And thrice invoke it, loud and deep.

Then, soon as man may trust the seas,
Invited by the crisp spring breeze,
My comrades drag along the sand
The well-dried ships, and crowd the strand:
So from the harbour forth we sail,
And land and town in distance fail.
Encircled by a billowy ring
A land there lies, the loved resort
Of Neptune, the Ægæan king,
And the grey queen of Nereus' court:
Long time the sport of ev'ry blast
O'er ocean it was wont to toss,
Till grateful Phœbus moored it fast
To Gyaros and high Myconos,
And bade it lie unmoved, and brave
The violence of wind and wave.
That port, all peace, receives our fleet:
We land, and hail Apollo's seat.
King Anius, king and priest in one,
With bay-crowned tresses hoar,
Hastes to accost us, and is known
Anchises' friend of yore.
We grasp his friendly hand in proof
Of welcome, and approach his roof.
The sacred temple I adored
Of immemorial stone:
'O grant us, Thymbra's gracious lord,
A mansion of our own!
Grant us a sure abiding place
A habitation and a race.
Save our new Troy, the relics these
Of Achillean cruelties!