The Aeneid by Virgil

the world, and his fame by the stars. He will be
                called Julius, a name passed down to him from the great Iulus.
290         In time to come, have no fear, you will receive him in the sky,
                laden with the spoils of the East. He too will be called upon in
                prayer. Then wars will be laid aside and the years of bitterness
                will be over. Silver-haired Truth and Vesta, and Romulus Quirinus
                with his brother Remus, will sit dispensing justice. The
                dread Gates of War with their tight fastenings of steel will then
                be closed, and godless Strife will sit inside them on his murderous
                armour roaring hideously from bloody mouth, hands shackled
                behind his back with a hundred bands of bronze.’
                    So spoke Jupiter, and he sent down Mercury, the son of Maia,
                to make the lands and the citadel of the new city of Carthage
                hospitable to the Trojans, in case Dido, in her ignorance of
300         destiny, should bar her country to them. Through the great
                expanse of air he flew, wielding his wings like oars, and soon
                alighted on the shores of Libya. There he lost no time in carrying
                out the commands of Jupiter, and in accordance with the divine
                will the Carthaginians laid aside their fiery temper. Most of all
                the queen took into her heart a feeling of quiet and kindness
                towards the Trojans.
                    But all that night the dutiful Aeneas was turning many things
                over in his mind. As soon as life-giving morning came, he decided
                to go out and explore this new land and bring back to his men
                a true account of the shores to which the winds had driven him,
                and the beasts and men who lived there, if there were any men,
310         for he saw no signs of cultivation. So, leaving his ships hidden
                in the wooded cove under the overhanging rocks, and shut in
                on every side by trees and quivering shade, he set out alone with
                Achates, gripping two broad-bladed steel spears in his hand. As
                he walked through the middle of the wood, his mother came to
                meet him looking like a Spartan girl out hunting, wearing the
                dress of a Spartan girl and carrying her weapons, or like the
                Thracian Harpalyce, as she wearies horses with her running and
                outstrips the swift current of the river Hebrus. She had a light
                bow hanging from her shoulders in hunting style, her hair was
320         unbound and streaming in the wind and her flowing dress was
                caught up above the knee. ‘Hey there, soldiers,’ she called out
                to them, ‘do you happen to have seen one of my sisters wandering
                about here or in full cry after the foaming boar? She was
                wearing a spotted lynx skin and had a quiver hanging from
                her belt.’
                    So spoke Venus, and Venus’ son so began his reply: ‘I have
                neither seen nor heard any of your sisters. But how am I