Against the Tiber’s mouth, but far away, An ancient town was seated on the sea; A Tyrian colony; the people made Stout for the war, and studious of their trade: Carthage the name; belov’d by Juno more Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.
Our narrow kingdom here the Tiber bounds; That other side the Latian state surrounds, Insults our walls, and wastes our fruitful grounds.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood: Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course, With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force, That drove the sand along, he took his way, And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea.
A tract of land the Latins have possess’d Along the Tiber, stretching to the west, Which now Rutulians and Auruncans till, And their mix’d cattle graze the fruitful hill.
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It is thought that grain was shipped on The Tiber as early as the 5th century BC.
It was now about to fall much farther and run to join streams that made their way through the city... to the Tiber.