The Aeneid | Page 4

your pleasure, or subdue;
Dispose of empire, which
I hold from you."
He said, and hurl'd against the mountain side
His quiv'ring spear, and
all the god applied.
The raging winds rush thro' the hollow wound,

And dance aloft in air, and skim along the ground;
Then, settling on
the sea, the surges sweep,
Raise liquid mountains, and disclose the
deep.
South, East, and West with mix'd confusion roar,
And roll the
foaming billows to the shore.
The cables crack; the sailors' fearful
cries
Ascend; and sable night involves the skies;
And heav'n itself
is ravish'd from their eyes.
Loud peals of thunder from the poles
ensue;
Then flashing fires the transient light renew;
The face of
things a frightful image bears,
And present death in various forms
appears.
Struck with unusual fright, the Trojan chief,
With lifted
hands and eyes, invokes relief;
And, "Thrice and four times happy
those," he cried,
"That under Ilian walls before their parents died!


Tydides, bravest of the Grecian train!
Why could not I by that strong
arm be slain,
And lie by noble Hector on the plain,
Or great
Sarpedon, in those bloody fields
Where Simois rolls the bodies and
the shields
Of heroes, whose dismember'd hands yet bear
The dart
aloft, and clench the pointed spear!"
Thus while the pious prince his fate bewails,
Fierce Boreas drove
against his flying sails,
And rent the sheets; the raging billows rise,

And mount the tossing vessels to the skies:
Nor can the shiv'ring oars
sustain the blow;
The galley gives her side, and turns her prow;

While those astern, descending down the steep,
Thro' gaping waves
behold the boiling deep.
Three ships were hurried by the southern
blast,
And on the secret shelves with fury cast.
Those hidden rocks
th' Ausonian sailors knew:
They call'd them Altars, when they rose in
view,
And show'd their spacious backs above the flood.
Three more
fierce Eurus, in his angry mood,
Dash'd on the shallows of the
moving sand,
And in mid ocean left them moor'd aland.
Orontes'
bark, that bore the Lycian crew,
(A horrid sight!) ev'n in the hero's
view,
From stem to stern by waves was overborne:
The trembling
pilot, from his rudder torn,
Was headlong hurl'd; thrice round the ship
was toss'd,
Then bulg'd at once, and in the deep was lost;
And here
and there above the waves were seen
Arms, pictures, precious goods,
and floating men.
The stoutest vessel to the storm gave way,
And
suck'd thro' loosen'd planks the rushing sea.
Ilioneus was her chief:
Alethes old,
Achates faithful, Abas young and bold,
Endur'd not
less; their ships, with gaping seams,
Admit the deluge of the briny
streams.
Meantime imperial Neptune heard the sound
Of raging billows
breaking on the ground.
Displeas'd, and fearing for his wat'ry reign,

He rear'd his awful head above the main,
Serene in majesty; then
roll'd his eyes
Around the space of earth, and seas, and skies.
He
saw the Trojan fleet dispers'd, distress'd,
By stormy winds and wintry

heav'n oppress'd.
Full well the god his sister's envy knew,
And what
her aims and what her arts pursue.
He summon'd Eurus and the
western blast,
And first an angry glance on both he cast;
Then thus
rebuk'd: "Audacious winds! from whence
This bold attempt, this
rebel insolence?
Is it for you to ravage seas and land,
Unauthoriz'd
by my supreme command?
To raise such mountains on the troubled
main?
Whom I- but first 't is fit the billows to restrain;
And then
you shall be taught obedience to my reign.
Hence! to your lord my
royal mandate bearThe
realms of ocean and the fields of air
Are
mine, not his. By fatal lot to me
The liquid empire fell, and trident of
the sea.
His pow'r to hollow caverns is confin'd:
There let him reign,
the jailer of the wind,
With hoarse commands his breathing subjects
call,
And boast and bluster in his empty hall."
He spoke; and, while
he spoke, he smooth'd the sea,
Dispell'd the darkness, and restor'd the
day.
Cymothoe, Triton, and the sea-green train
Of beauteous
nymphs, the daughters of the main,
Clear from the rocks the vessels
with their hands:
The god himself with ready trident stands,
And
opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands;
Then heaves them off
the shoals. Where'er he guides
His finny coursers and in triumph
rides,
The waves unruffle and the sea subsides.
As, when in tumults
rise th' ignoble crowd,
Mad are their motions, and their tongues are
loud;
And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly,
And all the
rustic arms that fury can supply:
If then some grave and pious man
appear,
They hush their noise, and lend a list'ning ear;
He soothes
with sober words their angry mood,
And quenches their innate desire
of blood:

So, when the Father of the Flood appears,
And o'er the
seas his sov'reign trident rears,
Their fury falls: he skims the liquid
plains,
High on his chariot, and, with loosen'd reins,
Majestic
moves along, and awful peace maintains.
The weary Trojans ply their
shatter'd oars
To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores.
Within a long recess there lies a bay:
An island shades it from the
rolling sea,
And forms a port secure for ships to ride;
Broke by the

jutting land, on either side,
In double streams the briny waters glide.

Betwixt two rows of rocks a sylvan scene
Appears above, and
groves for ever green:
A