107Aeneas and his chief captains and handsome Iulus lay down their bodies beneath the branches of a tall tree, and set out a feast, and place wheaten cakes on the grass beneath the food (so Jupiter himself was prompting them), and heap the base of Ceres with wild fruits. 112Here, as it happened, when everything else was eaten and lack of food drove them to turn their teeth on the scanty bread, and to violate with hand and bold jaw the circle of the fated crust, and not to spare the broad quarters: 'Look! 116We are even eating our tables,' says Iulus, jesting, and no more. 117That word, once heard, first brought an end to their toils, and his father caught it as it first fell from the speaker's lips, and, struck with awe at the divine will, held it fast.
120At once he says: 'Hail, land owed to me by the fates, and hail, you faithful household gods of Troy: here is our home, this is our country. 122For my father Anchises (now I remember) left me such secrets of the fates: "When, my son, carried to unknown shores, hunger forces you, your food used up, to eat your tables, then, weary as you are, remember to hope for a home, and there to set your first buildings with your own hand and fortify them with a rampart." 128This was that hunger; 128this was the last trial awaiting us, to set an end to our exile. 130So come, and gladly, with the first light of the sun, let us find out what places these are, what men hold them, where the people's walls are, and let us head out from the harbour in different directions.
133Now pour libations from your bowls to Jupiter, call on my father Anchises in prayer, and set the wine back on the tables.'