Deep in the face of that Euboean cragA cavern vast is hollowed out amain,With hundred openings, a hundred mouths,Whence voices flow, the Sibyl's answering songs.While at the door they paused, the virgin cried :“Ask now thy doom!—the god! the god is nigh!”So saying, from her face its color flew,Her twisted locks flowed free, the heaving breastSwelled with her heart's wild blood; her stature seemedVaster, her accent more than mortal man,As all th' oncoming god around her breathed :“On with thy vows and prayers, 0 Trojan, on!For only unto prayer this haunted caveMay its vast lips unclose.” She spake no more.An icy shudder through the marrow ranOf the bold Trojans; while their sacred KingPoured from his inmost soul this plaint and prayer :“Phoebus, who ever for the woes of Troy Hadst pitying eyes! who gavest deadly aimTo Paris when his Dardan shaft he hurledOn great Achilles! Thou hast guided meThrough many an unknown water, where the seasBreak upon kingdoms vast, and to the tribesOf the remote Massyli, whose wild landTo Syrtes spreads. But now; because at lastI touch Hesperia's ever-fleeting bound,May Troy's ill fate forsake me from this day!0 gods and goddesses, beneath whose wrathDardania's glory and great Ilium stood,Spare, for ye may, the remnant of my race!And thou, most holy prophetess, whose soulForeknows events to come, grant to my prayer(Which asks no kingdom save what Fate decrees)That I may stablish in the Latin landMy Trojans, my far-wandering household-gods,And storm-tossed deities of fallen Troy.Then unto Phoebus and his sister paleA temple all of marble shall be given,And festal days to Phoebus evermore.Thee also in my realms a spacious shrineShall honor; thy dark books and holy songsI there will keep, to be my people's law;And thee, benignant Sibyl for all timeA company of chosen priests shall serve.O, not on leaves, light leaves, inscribe thy songs!Lest, playthings of each breeze, they fly afarIn swift confusion! Sing thyself, I pray.”So ceased his voice;the virgin through the cave,Scarce bridled yet by Phoebus' hand divine,Ecstatic swept along, and vainly stoveTo fing its potent master from her breast;But he more strongly plied his rein and curbUpon her frenzied lips, and soon subduedHer spirit fierce, and swayed her at his will.Free and self-moved the cavern's hundred adoorsSwung open wide, and uttered to the airThe oracles the virgin-priestess sung :“Thy long sea-perils thou hast safely passed;But heavier woes await thee on the land.Truly thy Trojans to Lavinian shoreShall come—vex not thyself thereon—but, oh!Shall rue their coming thither! war, red war!And Tiber stained with bloody foam I see.Simois, Xanthus, and the Dorian hordeThou shalt behold; a new Achilles nowIn Latium breathes,—he, too, of goddess born;And Juno, burden of the sons of Troy,Will vex them ever; while thyself shalt sueIn dire distress to many a town and tribeThrough Italy; the cause of so much illAgain shall be a hostess-queen, againA marriage-chamber for an alien bride.Oh! yield not to thy woe, but front it ever,And follow boldly whither Fortune calls.Thy way of safety, as thou least couldst dream,Lies through a city of the Greeks, thy foes.”