Then it will happen: basking in the pelt
Of the she-wolf that nursed him, Romulus
Will lead his race, and raise the walls of Mars,
And give his own name to the people: Romans.
These I set free from distance and from time,
To them I grant an Empire with no end.
Then even Juno who embittered now
Harrows the sky and earth and sea with horrors
Will keep a greater counsel, and hold dear
As I do now this people of all peoples,
Lords of all lands, men of the toga: Romans.
My will be done. As the years fall with time
An age shall come when these the royal sons
Of Troy enslave the homeland of Achilles
And Agamemnon's kingdom. They will bring
Their law to bear upon the broken Argives;
Born of that noble line a Trojan Caesar
Bestrides the narrow world to bound his empire
With ocean, and his glory in the stars.
Julius his name, of the great clan of Iulus.
Him you shall welcome into heaven with us,
Laden with spoils of Asia, come his day,
And he like us shall be invoked in prayers.
War put aside, the bitter times shall mellow
As seasoned Fides, Vesta and Romulus
United with his brother, give the law.
The Gates of War, baleful with iron bars
Shall be locked shut. Therein unholy Rancor
Of civil gore, crouched on his savage weapons,
Hands bound back by a hundred brazen shackles,
Will bristle black and howl with blood-drunk mouth.