cum mihi se, non ante oculis tam clara, videndam obtulit et pura per noctem in luce refulsit alma parens, confessa deam qualisque videri caelicolis et quanta solet, dextraque prehensum continuit roseoque haec insuper addidit ore: nate, quis indomitas tantus dolor excitat iras? quid furis? aut quonam nostri tibi cura recessit? non prius aspicies, ubi fessum aetate parentem liqueris Anchisen, superet coniunxne Creusa, Ascaniusque puer? quos omnis undique Graiae circum errant acies et, ni mea cura resistat, iam flammae tulerint, inimicus et hauserit ensis.
when my gracious mother, never before so brilliant to behold, came before my eyes, in pure radiance gleaming through the night, manifesting her deity, in beauty and stature such as she is wont to appear to the lords of heaven. She caught me by the hand and stayed me, and spoke these words besides with roseate lips: My son, what resentment thus stirs ungovernable wrath? Why this rage? Whither has your care for me fled? Will you not first see where you have left your father, age-worn Anchises, whether Creusa your wife and the boy Ascanius still live? All these the Greek lines compass round on every side, and did not my love prevent it, by now the flames would have swept them away and the hostile sword would have drunk their blood.