Aeneas, with his father Anchises, is hospitably entertained at Delos, by Anius the priest of Apollo—After visiting the island of Phaeacia, the hero at length arrives at the dangerous rocks of Scylla.
Troy thus destroy’d, ’twas still denied by fate, The hopes of Troy should perish with the state. His sire, the son of Cytherea bore, And household gods from burning Ilium’s shore. The pious prince (a double duty paid) Each sacred burden through the flames convey’d. With young Ascanius, and this only prize, Of heaps of wealth, he from Antandros flies; But struck with horror, left the Thracian shore, Stain’d with the blood of murder’d Polydore. The Delian isle receives the banish’d train, Driven by kind gales, and favour’d by the main.
Here pious Anius, priest and monarch, reign’d, And either charge with equal care sustain’d; His subjects ruled, to Phoebus homage paid, His god obeying, and by those obey’d.