Thus roused, her friends she gathers. All await
Her summons, who the tyrant fear or hate.
Some ships at hand, chance-anchored in the bay,
They seize and load them with the costly freight,
And far off o'er the deep is borne away
Pygmalion's hoarded pelf. A woman leads the way.

XLIX. "Hither, where now the walls and fortress high,
Of Carthage, and her rising homes are found,
They came, and there full cheaply did they buy,
Such space--called Byrsa from the deed--of ground
As one bull's-hide could compass and surround.
But who are ye, pray answer? on what quest
Come ye? and whence and whither are ye bound?"
Her then AEneas, from his inmost breast
Heaving a deep-drawn sigh, with labouring speech addressed:

L. "O Goddess, should I from the first unfold,
Or could'st thou hear, the annals of our woe,
Eve's star were shining, ere the tale were told.
From ancient Troy--if thou the name dost know--
A chance-met storm hath driven us to and fro,
And tost us on the Libyan shores. My name
Is good AEneas; from the flames and foe
I bear Troy's rescued deities. My fame
Outsoars the stars of heaven; a Jove-born race, we claim

LI. "A home in fair Italia far away.
With twice ten ships I climbed the Phrygian main,
My goddess-mother pointing out the way,