Scarce now the summer had begun, when straight / my father, old Anchises, gave command / to spread our canvas and to trust to Fate. / Weeping, I leave my native port, the land, / the fields where once the Trojan towers did stand, / and, homeless, launch upon the boundless brine, / heart-broken outcast, with an exiled band, / comrades, and son, and household gods divine, / and the great Gods of Troy, the guardians of our line.
Vix prima inceperat æstas, / et pater Anchises dare fatis vela jubebat; / litora cum patriæ lacrimans portusque relinquo / et campos, ubi Troja fuit. Feror exsul in altum / cum sociis natoque Penatibus et magnis dis.Tatoeba-2020.08 Tatoeba-2020.08