To our Lavinian western shore, A fugitive, this captain, buffeted ... Till he could found a city and bring home His gods to Laetium, land of the Latin race, Did you suppose, my father, The Alban lords, and the high walls of Rome. That I could tear myself away and leave you? Tell me the causes now, O Muse, how galled Unthinkable; how could a father say it? ... Now if it pleases the powers about that nothing From her old wound, the queen of gods compelled him— Stand of this great city; if…
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