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The great poetry that sings Italy has distant roots. In the first century BC, the Latin poet Virgil tells the wonder and exultation of those who escaped the fire of Troy, after wandering the Mediterranean sea, were about to arrive in Italy. In the book III of the Aeneid, the Trojan hero steered owards Italy, towards a new land and a new future, a future destined to mark forever Italian and European history. Prophecies and apparitions showed a glimpse of the destination, which was clearer on the traces of the culture of men. «Procul obscuros ...

collis humilemque videmus Italiam / Italiam primus conclamat Achates / Italiam laeto socii clamore salutant…».
Let's read together the verses 521-546 of the third book of the
Aeneid, which describe fears and pleadings, fears of wars and hopes of peace upon arrival in Italy:

 

«And now Dawn blushes as she puts the stars to flight,

when we see, far off, dark hills and low-lying Italy.

First Achates proclaims Italy, then my companions

hail Italy with a joyful shout. Then my father Anchises

took up a large bowl, filled it with wine,

and standing in the high stern, called to the heavens:

“You gods, lords of the sea and earth and storms, carry us

onward on a gentle breeze, and breathe on us with kindness!”

The wind we longed-for rises, now as we near, a harbour opens,

and a temple is visible on Minerva’s Height.

My companions furl the sails and turn the prows to shore.

The harbour is carved in an arc by the eastern tides:

its jutting rocks boil with salt spray, so that it itself is hidden:

towering cliffs extend their arms in a twin wall,

and the temple lies back from the shore.

Here I see four horses in the long grass, white as snow,

grazing widely over the plain, our first omen.

And my father Anchises cries: “O foreign land, you bring us war:

horses are armed for war, war is what this herd threatens.

Yet those same creatures one day can be yoked to a chariot,

and once yoked will suffer the bridle in harmony:

there’s also hope of peace.” Then we pray to the sacred power

of Pallas, of the clashing weapons, first to receive our cheers,

and clothed in Phrygian robes we veiled our heads before the altar,

and following the urgent command Helenus had given,

we duly made burnt offerings to Argive Juno as ordered».

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