Nor less expense the Trojan gifts express’d; A fuming censor for the royal priest, A chalice, and a crown of princely cost, With ruddy gold, and sparkling gems emboss’d.

Now hoisting sail, to Crete the Trojans stood, Themselves remembering sprung from Teucer’s blood; But heaven forbids, and pestilential Jove, From noxious skies the wandering navy drove. Her hundred cities left, from Crete they bore, And sought the destined land, Ausonia’s shore; But toss’d by storms at either Strophas lay, Till scared by harpies from the faithless bay. Then passing onward with a prosperous wind, Left sly Uylsses’ spacious realms behind; Ambracia’s state, in former ages known The strife of gods, the judge transform’d to stone They saw; for Actian Phoebus since renown’d, Who Caesar’s arms with naval conquest crown’d; Next pass’d Dodona, wont of old to boast Her vocal forest; and Chaonia’s coast, Where King Molossus’ sons on wings aspired, And saw secure the harmless fuel fired.