"
Out spoke Aletes, old and gray:
"Ye gods, who still are Ilium's stay,
No, no, ye mean not to destroy
Down to the ground the race of Troy,
When such the spirit of her youth,
And such the might of patriot truth."
Then, as the tears roll down his face,
He clasps them both in strict embrace:
"Brave warriors! what rewards so great,
For worth like yours to compensate?
From Heaven and from your own true heart
Expect the largest, fairest part:
The rest, and at no distant day,
The good Aeneas shall repay,
Nor he, the royal youth, forget
Through all his life the mighty debt."
"Nay, hear me too," Ascanius cried,
"Whose life is with my father's tied:
O Nisus! by the home-god powers
We jointly reverence, yours and ours,
The god of ancient Capys' line,
And Vesta's venerable shrine,
By these dread sanctions I appeal
To you, the masters of my weal;
Oh, bring me back my sire again!
Restore him, and I feel no pain.
Two massy goblets will I give;
Rich sculptures on the silver live;
The plunder of my sire,
What time he took Arisba's hold;
Two chargers, talents twain of gold,
A bowl beside of antique mould
By Dido brought from Tyre.
Then, too, if ours the lot to reign
O'er Italy by conquest ta'en,
And each man's spoil assign,--
Saw ye how Turnus rode yestreen,
His horse and arms of golden sheen?
That horse, that shield and glowing crest
I separate, Nisus, from the rest
And count already thine.
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