Why thus wilt thou yield so much to unreasoning grief,
Sweet my husband? Not without heaven’s approval
Does this befall us; for thee to take with thee Creusa
In thy journeying hence may not be, nor does he that is lord
Of lofty Olympus allow it. Long is the exile
Awaits thee, and vast the stretches of sea thou must plough;
To the Land of the West shalt thou come, where the Lydian Tiber
Flows gently by ploughlands rich for the men who have tilled them.
There happiness waits thee, a kingdom, a princess for bride.
Put away thy tears for Creusa, the wife of thy love;
I shall not look on the Myrmidons’ arrogant halls
Or Dolopians’, shall not go to work as a slave
For the women of Greece, I that am Trojan by birth
And a daughter-in-law of Venus; but on these shores
The gods’ great mother will keep me. And now, farewell,
And keep thy love in thy heart for thy son and mine.
Virgil, The Aeneid