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BC 1197 to 1190.

Latium was the name given to an ancient province in Italy, lying south of the Tiber.

At the time of Aeneas' arrival upon the coast, it was an independent kingdom.

The name of the king who reigned over it at this period was Latinus.

The country on the banks of the Tiber, where the city of Rome afterward arose, was then a wild but picturesque royal region, consisting of hills and valleys occupied by shepherds and herdsmen, but with nothing upon it whatever to mark it as the site of a city.

The people that dwelt at Latium were shepherds and herdsmen, though there was a considerable band of warriors under the command of the king.

The inhabitants of the country were of Greek origin, and they had brought with them from Greece when they colonized the country some rude arts as were then known.

They had the use of Cadmus' letters for writing, so far as writing was employed at all in those early days.

So the ancestor of what becomes Auscan, Umbrian, what's spoken further to the south and kind of along the spine and the Apennines, there are varieties spoken to the south.

And then you have the this one specific variety of Latin that's spoken in Latium.

And there's two closely related dialects, Latin and Feliscan.

And they clearly are a group that belong together that are different from the other Italic languages.

And he says something that I really think is the main theme of this book.

And that's, through so many hard straights, so many twists and turns, our course holds firm for Latium.

Their fate holds out a homeland, calm at peace.

there the gods decree the kingdom of troy will rise again nice and then uh he said he said something like hold firm after that and they're happy days ahead and so like even through all this distress he's never letting it show wow

Not

without secret trouble our bravest saw the foes, For girt by threescore thousand spears the thirty standards rose, from every warlike city that boasts the Latium name.

For doomed to dogs and vultures that gallant army came, from Setia's purple vineyards, from Norba's ancient wall, from the white streets of Tusculum, the proudest town of all.

from where the witch's fortress overhangs the dark blue seas, from the still glassy lake that sleeps beneath Arikia's trees, those trees in whose dim shadow the ghastly priest doth reign, the priest who slew the slayer and shall himself be slain, from the drear banks of Euphens, where flights of marsh fowl play and buffaloes lie wallowing through the hot summer's day, from the gigantic watch-towers no work of earthly men whence cora's sentinels overlook the never-ending fen from the laurentian jungle the wild hog's reedy home from the green steppes whence anio leaps in floods of snow-white foam cora norba elytrae with the might of setia and of tusculum remarshalled on the right their leader was prince of the Latian name, upon his head a helmet of red gold shone like flame.