Aeneid
Virgil
Vergil. The Aeneid of Virgil. Williams, Theodore, C, translator. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1910.
- Now in Aeneas' ever-burdened breast
- the voice of hope revived. He bade make haste
- to raise the masts, spread canvas on the spars;
- all hands hauled at the sheets, and left or right
- shook out the loosened sails, or twirled in place
- the horn-tipped yards. Before a favoring wind
- the fleet sped on. The line in close array
- was led by Palinurus, in whose course
- all ships were bid to follow. Soon the car
- of dewy Night drew near the turning-point
- of her celestial round. The oarsmen all
- yielded their limbs to rest, and prone had fallen
- on the hard thwarts, in deep, unpillowed slumber.
- Then from the high stars on light-moving wings,
- the God of Sleep found passage through the dark
- and clove the gloom,—to bring upon thy head,
- O Palinurus, an ill-boding sleep,
- though blameless thou. Upon thy ship the god
- in guise of Phorbas stood, thus whispering:
- “Look, Palinurus, how the flowing tides
- lift on thy fleet unsteered, and changeless winds
- behind thee breathe! 'T is now a happy hour
- take thy rest. Lay down the weary head.
- Steal tired eyes from toiling. I will do
- thine office for thee, just a little space.”
- But Palinurus, lifting scarce his eyes,
- thus answered him: “Have I not known the face
- of yonder placid seas and tranquil waves?
- Put faith in such a monster? Could I trust —
- I, oft by ocean's treacherous calm betrayed —
- my lord Aeneas to false winds and skies?”