hic et tum pater ipse petens responsa Latinus centum lanigeras mactabat rite bidentis, atque harum effultus tergo stratisque iacebat velleribus: subita ex alto vox reddita luco est: ne pete conubiis natam sociare Latinis, o mea progenies, thalamis neu crede paratis; externi venient generi, qui sanguine nostrum nomen in astra ferant, quorumque a stirpe nepotes omnia sub pedibus, qua sol utrumque recurrens aspicit Oceanum, vertique regique videbunt.
Here then, also, King Latinus himself, seeking an answer, duly slaughtered a hundred woolly sheep, and lay couched on their hides and outspread fleeces. Suddenly a voice came from the deepgrove: Seek not, my son, to ally your daughter in Latin wedlock, and put no faith in the bridal chamber that is ready at hand. Strangers shall come, to be your sons, whose blood shall exalt our name to the stars, and the children of whose race shall behold, where the circling sun looks on each ocean,     the whole world roll obedient beneath their feet.