P. Vergilius Maro, Aeneid
Theodore C. Williams, Ed.

Then Venus, by her offspring's guiltless woe
sore moved, did cull from Cretan Ida's crest
some dittany, with downy leaf and stem
and flowers of purple bloom—a simple known
to mountain goats, when to their haunches clings
an arrow gone astray. This Venus brought,
mantling her shape in cloud; and this she steeped
in bowls of glass, infusing secretly
ambrosia's healing essence and sweet drops
of fragrant panacea. Such a balm
aged Iapyx poured upon the wound,
though unaware; and sudden from the flesh
all pain departed and the blood was staunched,
while from the gash the arrow uncompelled
followed the hand and dropped: his wonted strength
flowed freshly through the hero's frame. “Make haste!
Bring forth his arms! Why tarry any more?”
Iapyx shouted, being first to fire
their courage 'gainst the foe. “This thing is done
not of man's knowledge, nor by sovereign skill;
nor has my hand, Aeneas, set thee free.
Some mighty god thy vigor gives again
for mighty deeds.” Aeneas now put on,
all fever for the fight, his golden greaves,
and, brooking not delay, waved wide his spear.
Soon as the corselet and the shield were bound
on back and side, he clasped Ascanius
to his mailed breast, and through his helmet grim
tenderly kissed his son. “My boy", he cried,
“What valor is and patient, genuine toil
learn thou of me; let others guide thy feet
to prosperous fortune. Let this hand and sword
defend thee through the war and lead thee on
to high rewards. Thou also play the man!
And when thy riper vigor soon shall bloom,
forget not in thy heart to ponder well
the story of our line. Heed honor's call,
like Sire Aeneas and Hector thy close kin.”