Ye know mad Scylla, and her monsters' yell,
And the dark caverns where the Cyclops dwell.
Fear not; take heart; hereafter, it may be
These too will yield a pleasant tale to tell.
Through shifting hazards, by the Fates' decree,
To Latin shores we steer, our promised land to see.

XXVIII. "There quiet settlements the Fates display,
There Troy her ruined fortunes shall repair.
Bear up; reserve you for a happier day."
He spake, and heart-sick with a load of care,
Suppressed his grief, and feigned a cheerful air.
All straightway gird them to the feast. These flay
The ribs and thighs, and lay the entrails bare.
Those slice the flesh, and split the quivering prey,
And tend the fires and set the cauldrons in array.

XXIX. So wine and venison, to their hearts' desire,
Refreshed their strength. And when the feast was sped,
Their missing friends in converse they require,
Doubtful to deem them, betwixt hope and dread,
Alive or out of hearing with the dead.
All mourned, but good AEneas mourned the most,
And bitter tears for Amycus he shed,
Gyas, Cloanthus, bravest of his host,
Lycus, Orontes bold, all counted with the lost.

XXX. Now came an end of mourning and of woe,
When Jove, surveying from his prospect high
Shore, sail-winged sea, and peopled earth below,