She, in form and mien, Armed with her quiver, towers above the rest, And tranquil pleasure thrills Latona's silent breast.
LXVI.

E'en such was Dido; so with joyous mien, Urging the business of her rising state, Among the concourse passed the Tyrian queen; Then, girt with guards, within the temple's gate Beneath the centre of the dome she sate.
There, ministering justice, she presides, And deals the law, and from her throne of state, As choice determines or as chance decides, To each, in equal share, his separate task divides.
LXVII.

Sudden, behold a concourse.

Looking down, His late-lost friends AEneas sees again, Sergestus, brave Cloanthus of renown, Antheus and others of the Trojan train, Whom the black squall had scattered o'er the main, And driven afar upon an alien strand.
At once, 'twixt joy and terror rent in twain, Amazed, AEneas and Achates stand, And long to greet old friends and clasp a comrade's hand.
LXVIII.

Yet wildering wonder at so strange a scene Still holds them mute, while anxious thoughts divide Their doubtful minds, and in the cloud unseen, Wrapt in its hollow covering, they abide And note what fortune did their friends betide, And whence they come, and why for grace they sue, And on what shore they left the fleet to bide, For chosen captains came from every crew, And towards the sacred fane with clamorous cries they drew.
LXIX.