Tyrians

The Tyrians, yielding to the god, abate / their fierceness. Dido, more than all the rest, / warms to her Phrygian friends, and wears a kindly breast.

"The realm thou see'st is Punic; Tyrians are / the folk, the town Agenor's. Round them lie / the Libyan plains, a people rough in war."

Hotly the Tyrians are at work. These draw / the bastions' lines, roll stones and trench the ground; / or build the citadel.

A grove stood in the city, rich in shade, / where storm-tost Tyrians, past the perilous brine, / dug from the ground, by royal Juno's aid, / a war-steed's head, to far-off days a sign / that wealth and prowess should adorn the line.

Forth Cupid, at his mother's word, repairs, / and merrily, for brave Achates led, / the royal presents to the Tyrians bears.

There, entering too, on broidered seats recline / the Tyrians, crowding through the festive court.

And prayed, while silence filled the crowded hall: / "Great Jove, the host's lawgiver, bless this day / to these my Tyrians and the Trojans all. / Long may our children's sons this solemn feast recall."

All this he sings, and ravished at the song, / Tyrians and Trojan guests the loud applause prolong.

From ancient Troy (by chance, have the Tyrians heard of it?) we come, and we had already crossed many seas, when the whims of the storm threw us onto these Libyan shores.

For me, there will be no difference between Tyrians and Trojans.