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

The tale was told us that Idomeneus,
from his hereditary kindgom driven,
had left his Crete abandoned, that no foe
now harbored there, but all its dwellings lay
untenanted of man. So forth we sailed
out of the port of Delos, and sped far
along the main. The maenad-haunted hills
of Naxos came in view; the ridges green
of fair Donysa, with Olearos,
and Paros, gleaming white, and Cyclades
scattered among the waves, as close we ran
where thick-strewn islands vex the channelled seas
with rival shout the sailors cheerly called:
“On, comrades! On, to Crete and to our sires!”
Freely behind us blew the friendly winds,
and gave smooth passage to that fabled shore,
the land of the Curetes, friends of Jove.
There eagerly I labored at the walls
of our long-prayed-for city; and its name
was Pergamea; to my Trojan band,
pleased with such name, I gave command to build
altar and hearth, and raise the lofty tower.