As Fate commanded. Now scarce seven remain,
Wave-worn and shattered by the tempest's strain.
Myself, a stranger, friendless and unknown,
From Europe driven and Asia, roam in vain
The wilds of Libya"--Then his plaintive tone
No more could Venus bear, but interrupts her son;

LII. "Stranger," she answered, "whosoe'er thou be;
Not unbeloved of heavenly powers, I ween,
Thou breath'st the vital air, whom Fate's decree
Permits a Tyrian city to have seen.
But hence, and seek the palace of the queen.
Glad news I bear thee, of thy comrades brought,
The North-wind shifted and the skies serene;
Thy ships have gained the harbour which they sought,
Else vain my parents' lore the augury they taught.

LIII. "See yon twelve swans, in jubilant array,
Whom late Jove's eagle scattered through the sky;
Now these alight, now those the pitch survey.
As they, returning, sport with joyous cry,
And flap their wings and circle in the sky,
E'en so thy vessels and each late-lost crew
Safe now and scatheless in the harbour lie,
Or, crowding canvas, hold the port in view.
But hence, where leads the path, thy forward steps pursue."

LIV. So saying, she turned, and all refulgent showed
Her roseate neck, and heavenly fragrance sweet
Was breathed from her ambrosial hair. Down flowed