Ilioneus answered:--“Son of Faunus, Great king, no tempest and no blackness drove us Over the waves to shelter here; no star, No shore, has fooled us in our voyage. We came on purpose, and with willing hearts, To this your city, exiled from a kingdom, The greatest, once, that ever the sun looked down on. We come from Jove; in Jove as ancestor The sons of Troy rejoice; our king, Aeneas, Himself is sprung from Jove; it is he who sent us To seek your threshold. No one in all the world, Whether he lives on the farthest edge of ocean, Whether he lives in the deepest heart of the tropics, No one, I think, but knows how fierce a storm-cloud Broke from Mycenae over the plains of Ida, And how two worlds, Europe and Asia, battled Driven by fate to war. We have been driven By that great tidal wave across vast oceans, And now we ask a little home, a harbor-- We will do no damage--for our country’s gods, We ask for nothing more than all should have, For air and water. You need not be sorry, We shall do nothing shameful in your kingdom, Your fame, your kindness, as we tell the story, Will grow in greatness. Ausonia, I promise, Will not regret receiving Troy. I swear it On our captain’s fate and honor, proven often In loyalty, in war. There are many nations, Nations and people both, who have often sought us, Wanted us for their allies--do not scorn us For coming as petitioners, with garlands, With suppliant words--it was the will of heaven That drove us to your shores. Dardanus came From here, and over and over again Apollo guides us To Tiber and Numicia’s sacred fountain. Our king is sending presents, little tokens Of former fortune, relics and remainders Rescued from Troy on fire. This gold Anchises Used when he poured libations at the altar, This sceptre and this diadem were Priam’s, Who wore these robes, the work of Trojan women, When he gave laws to the assembled people.”
Latinus, at his words, was grave; he held His gaze downcast, but his anxious eyes kept turning. It was not the crimson color, nor Priam’s sceptre, That moved him so; he was thinking of his daughter, Her marriage, and the oracle of Faunus. This one might be the man, this stranger, coming From a far-off land, might be his son, a ruler Called, by the fates, to share his power, to father Illustrious children, masters of the world. He spoke, in gladness:--“Bless, O gods, our project And your own augury! It will be given, O Trojan, as you ask. I do not scorn The gifts you bring. Never, while I am ruling, Shall you be lacking fruitful land in plenty, And Troy’s abundance shall be yours forever. And as for king Aeneas, if you bring us True tidings of his longing for our friendship, Our hospitality, and our alliance, Let him appear in person, let him never Shrink from our friendly gaze. To King Latinus It will be pact and covenant to meet him, To take him by the hand. Give him my answer: I have a daughter; prodigies from heaven Innumerable, and my father’s warnings, Delivered through his oracle, forbid me To give my daughter to a native husband. They tell me that my son-to-be is coming From foreign shores, to raise our name to heaven. Such is the prophecy they make for Latium. Your king, I think, must be the man they promise, If I have any sense of divination. He is the one I choose.”