Captive cars Hang round, and arms upon the doorposts shine, Curved axes, crests of helmets, towngates' bars, Spears, shields and beaks of ships, the trophies of their wars.
XXV.

There Picus sat, with his Quirinal wand, Tamer of steeds.

The augur's gown he wore, Short, striped and belted; and his lifted hand The sacred buckler on the left upbore.
Him Circe, his enamoured bride, of yore, Wild with desire, so ancient legends say, Smote with her golden rod, and sprinkling o'er His limbs her magic poisons, made a jay, And sent to roam the air, with dappled plumage gay.
XXVI.

Such is the temple, in whose sacred dome Latinus waits the Teucrians on his throne, And kindly thus accosts them as they come: 'Speak, Dardans,--for the Dardan name ye own; Nor strange your race and city, nor unknown Sail ye the plains of Ocean--tell me now, What seek ye?
By the tempest tost, or blown At random, needful of what help and how Came ye to Latin shores the dark-blue deep to plough?
XXVII.

"But, whether wandering from your course, or cast By storms--such ills as oft-times on the main O'ertake poor mariners--your ships at last Our stream have entered, and the port attain.
Shun not a welcome, nor our cheer disdain.
For dear to Saturn, whom our sires adored, Was Latium.