As thus he prayed and to the altars clung,
th' Omnipotent gave ear, and turned his gaze
upon the royal dwelling, where for love
the amorous pair forgot their place and name.
Then thus to Mercury he gave command:
“Haste thee, my son, upon the Zephyrs call,
and take thy winged way! My mandate bear
unto that prince of Troy who tarries now
in Tyrian Carthage, heedless utterly
of empire Heaven-bestowed. On winged winds
hasten with my decrees. Not such the man
his beauteous mother promised; not for this
twice did she shield him from the Greeks in arms:
but that he might rule Italy, a land
pregnant with thrones and echoing with war;
that he of Teucer's seed a race should sire,
and bring beneath its law the whole wide world.
If such a glory and event supreme
enkindle not his bosom; if such task
to his own honor speak not; can the sire
begrudge Ascanius the heritage
of the proud name of Rome? What plans he now?
What mad hope bids him linger in the lap
of enemies, considering no more
the land Lavinian and Ausonia's sons.
Let him to sea! Be this our final word:
this message let our herald faithful bear.”
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