parce metu, Cytherea; manent immota tuorum fata tibi; cernes urbem et promissa Lavini moenia, sublimemque feres ad sidera caeli magnanimum Aenean; neque me sententia vertit.
Spare your fears, Lady of Cythera; your childrens fates abide unmoved. You will see Laviniums city and its promised walls; and great-souled Aeneas you will raise on high to the starry heaven. No thought has turned me.