Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Then rallied from the grove-clad, Iofty isle
- the Cyclops' clan, and lined the beach and bay.
- We saw each lonely eyeball glare in vain,
- as side by side those brothers Aetna-born
- stood towering high, a conclave dark and dire:
- as when, far up some mountain's famous crest,
- wind-fronting oaks or cone-clad cypresses
- have made assembling in the solemn hills,
- Jove's giant wood or Dian's sacred grove.
- We, terror-struck, would fly we knew not where,
- with loosened sheet and canvas swelling strong
- before a welcome wind; but Helenus
- bade us both Scylla and Charybdis fear,
- where 'twixt the twain death straitly hems the way;
- and so the counsel was to veer our bark
- the course it came. But lo! a northern gale
- burst o'er us from Pelorus' narrowed side,
- and on we rode far past Pantagia's bay
- of unhewn rock, and past the haven strong
- of Megara, and Thapsus Iying low.
- Such were the names retold, and such the shores
- shown us by Achemenides, whose fate
- made him familiar there, for he had sailed
- with evil-starred Ulysses o'er that sea.