So Evander Finished the tale, resumed the walk. They came, First, to an altar and a gate: Carmental The Romans call it, in honor of that nymph Who first foretold the greatness of the Romans, The glory of Pallanteum. Past the portal They came to a spreading grove, a sanctuary Restored by Romulus, and under the cold cliff The Lupercal, named, in Arcadian fashion, For the great god Pan. And then Evander showed him The wood of Argiletum, and told the legend Of the death of Argus, once a guest. From there They went to the Tarpeian house, and a place Golden as we now know it, once a thicket, Once brush and briar, and now our Capitol. Even then men trembled, fearful of a presence Haunting this wood, this rock. “A god lives here,” Evander said, “What god, we are not certain, But certainly a god. Sometimes my people Think they have seen, it may be, Jove himself Clashing the darkening shield, massing the storm-cloud. Here you can see two towns; the walls are shattered, But they remind us still of men of old, Two forts, one built by Janus, one by Saturn, Janiculum, Saturnia.”
So they came, Conversing with each other, to the dwelling Where poor Evander lived, and saw the cattle And heard them lowing, through the Roman forum, The fashionable section of our city, And as they came to the house itself, Evander Remembered something,--“Hercules,” he said, “Great victor that he was, bent head and shoulders To enter here, and this house entertained him. Dare, O my guest, to think of wealth as nothing, Make yourself worthy of the god, and come here Without contempt for poverty.” He led him, The great Aeneas, under the low rafters, Found him a couch, nothing but leaves, and the bedspread A Libyan bear-skin. And night came rushing down Dark-wingèd over the earth.
And Venus’ heart Was anxious for her son, and with good reason, Knowing the threats and tumult of the Latins. She spoke to Vulcan, in that golden chamber Where they were wife and husband, and her words Were warm with love:--“When the Greek kings were tearing Troy’s towers as they deserved, and the walls were fated To fall to enemy fire, I sought no aid For those poor people, I did not ask for weapons Made by your art and power; no, dearest husband, I would not put you to that useless labor, Much as I owed to Priam’s sons, however I sorrowed for my suffering Aeneas. But now, at Jove’s command, he has made a landing On the Rutulian coast; I come, a suppliant To the great power I cherish, a mother asking Arms for her son. If Thetis and Aurora Could move you with their tears, behold what people Unite against me, what cities sharpen weapons Behind closed gates, intent on our destruction!” So Venus pleaded, and as she saw him doubtful, The goddess flung her snowy arms around him In fondlement, in soft embrace, and fire Ran through him; warmth, familiar to the marrow, Softened his sternness, as at times in thunder Light runs through cloud. She knew her charms, the goddess, Rejoicing in them, conscious of her beauty, Sure of the power of love, and heard his answer:-- “No need for far-fetched pleading, dearest goddess; Have you no faith in me? You might have asked it In those old days; I would have armed the Trojans, And Jupiter and the fates might well have given Another ten years of life to Troy and Priam. Now, if your purpose is for war, I promise Whatever careful craft I have, whatever Command I have of iron or electrum, Whatever fire and air can do. Your pleading Is foolish; trust your power!” And he came to her With the embrace they longed for, and on her bosom Sank, later, into slumber.
