The Aeneid of Virgil, page 90 by Virgil
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to Italia call
The Lycian lots, and so the Fates declare.
There lies the land I love, my destined home is there.
XLV. "If thee, Tyre-born, a Libyan town detain,
What grudge to Troy Ausonia's land denies?
We too may seek a foreign realm to gain.
Me, oft as Night's damp shadows from the skies
Have shrouded Earth, and fiery stars arise,
My sire Anchises' troubled ghost in sleep
Upbraids and scares, and ever louder cries
The wrong, that on Ascanius' head I heap,
Whom from Hesperia's plains, his destined realms, I keep.
XLVI. "Now, too, Jove's messenger himself comes down--
Bear witness both--I heard the voice divine,
I saw the God just entering the town.
Cease then to vex me, nor thyself repine.
Heaven's will to Latium summons me, not mine."
Him, speaking thus and pleading but in vain,
She viewed askance, rolling her restless eyne,
Then scanned him o'er, long silent, in disdain,
And thus at length broke out, and gave her wrath the rein.
XLVII. "False traitor! Goddess never gave thee birth,
Nor of thy race was Dardanus the first.
Thy limbs were fashioned in the womb of Earth,
The rugged rocks of Caucasus accurst.
Hyrcanian tigresses thy childhood nursed.
Why fawn and feign? what more have I to fear,
What more to wait for, having known the worst?
Moved he those eyes? dropped he a single tear
Sighed he with me, or spake a lover's heart to cheer?
XLVIII. "What first? what last? Nor Juno, nay, nor Jove
With equal eyes beholds the wrongs I bear.
Faithless is earth, and false is Heaven above.
I took him in, an outcast, and bade spare,
His ships and wandering comrades, let him share
My home, and made him partner of my reign.
Ah me! the Furies drive me to despair.
Now Phoebus calls him, now the Lycian fane,
Now Jove's own herald brings the dreadful news too plain:
XLIX. "Fit task for Gods; such cares disturb their ease.
I care not to conf