“ ‘For thus old saws foretell, and Helenus Anchises’ drooping son enliven’d thus, When Ilium now was in a sinking state, And he was doubtful of his future fate: “Oh goddess born! with thy hard fortune strive; Troy never can be lost, and thou alive. Thy passage thou shalt free through fire and sword, And Troy in foreign lands shall be restored: In happier fields a rising town I see Greater than whate’er was, or is, or e’er shall be; And Heaven yet owes the world a race derived from thee. Sages and chiefs, of other lineage born, The city shall extend⁠—extended, shall adorn: But from Iulus he must draw his breath, By whom thy Rome shall rule the conquer’d earth Whom heaven will lend mankind, on earth to reign, And late require the precious pledge again.” This Helenus to great Aeneas told, Which I retain, e’er since in other mould My soul was clothed; and now rejoice to view My country walls rebuilt, and Troy revived anew, Raised by the fall, decreed by loss to gain, Enslaved but to be free, and conquer’d but to reign.