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Aeneas' wave-worn crew now landward made, and took the nearest passage, whither lay the coast of Libya. A haven there walled in by bold sides of a rocky isle, offers a spacious and secure retreat, where every billow from the distant main breaks, and in many a rippling curve retires. Huge crags and two confronted promontories frown heaven-high, beneath whose brows outspread the silent, sheltered waters; on the heights the bright and glimmering foliage seems to show a woodland amphitheatre; and yet higher rises a straight-stemmed grove of dense, dark shade. Fronting on these a grotto may be seen, o'erhung by steep cliffs; from its inmost wall clear springs gush out; and shelving seats it has of unhewn stone, a place the wood-nymphs love. In such a port, a weary ship rides free of weight of firm-fluked anchor or strong chain.
After these things were past, exalted Jove, from his ethereal sky surveying clear the seas all winged with sails, lands widely spread, and nations populous from shore to shore, paused on the peak of heaven, and fixed his gaze on Libya. But while he anxious mused, near him, her radiant eyes all dim with tears, nor smiling any more, Venus approached, and thus complained: “O thou who dost control things human and divine by changeless laws, enthroned in awful thunder! What huge wrong could my Aeneas and his Trojans few achieve against thy power? For they have borne unnumbered deaths, and, failing Italy, the gates of all the world against them close. Hast thou not given us thy covenant that hence the Romans when the rolling years have come full cycle, shall arise to power from Troy's regenerate seed, and rule supreme the unresisted lords of land and sea? O Sire, what swerves thy will? How oft have I in Troy's most lamentable wreck and woe consoled my heart with this, and balanced oft our d
“O dearer to thy sister than her life,” Anna replied, “wouldst thou in sorrow's weed waste thy long youth alone, nor ever know sweet babes at thine own breast, nor gifts of love? Will dust and ashes, or a buried ghost reck what we do? 'T is true thy grieving heart was cold to earlier wooers, Libya's now, and long ago in Tyre. Iarbas knew thy scorn, and many a prince and captain bred in Afric's land of glory. Why resist a love that makes thee glad? Hast thou no care what alien lands are these where thou dost reign? Here are Gaetulia's cities and her tribes unconquered ever; on thy borders rove Numidia's uncurbed cavalry; here too lies Syrtis' cruel shore, and regions wide of thirsty desert, menaced everywhere by the wild hordes of Barca. Shall I tell of Tyre's hostilities, the threats and rage of our own brother? Friendly gods, I bow, wafted the Teucrian ships, with Juno's aid, to these our shores. O sister, what a throne, and what imperial city shall be thine, if thus espoused! With T<