Arms, and the man I sing, who, forc‘d by fate,
And haughty Juno‘s unrelenting hate,
Expell‘d and exil‘d, left the Trojan shore.
Long labors, both by sea and land, he bore,
And in the doubtful war, before he won
The Latian realm, and built the destin‘d town；
His banish‘d gods restor‘d to rites divine,
And settled sure succession in his line,
From whence the race of Alban fathers come,
And the long glories of majestic Rome.

O Muse! the causes and the crimes relate；
What goddess was provok‘d, and whence her hate；
For what offense the Queen of Heav‘n began
To persecute so brave, so just a man；
Involv‘d his anxious life in endless cares,
Expos‘d to wants, and hurried into wars!
Can heav‘nly minds such high resentment show,
Or exercise their spite in human woe?

Against the Tiber‘s mouth, but far away,
An ancient town was seated on the sea；
A Tyrian colony； the people made
Stout for the war, and studious of the

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