bridle and the foaming bit he placed,
To curb their fury, and outflung the rein.
Lightly he flies along the watery plain,
Borne in his azure chariot. Far and nigh
Beneath his thundering wheels the heaving main
Sinks, and the waves are tranquil, and on high
Through flying storm-drift shines the immeasurable sky.

CXII. Behind him throng, in many a motley group,
His followers--monsters of enormous chine,
Sea-shouldering whales, and Glaucus' aged troop,
Paloemon, Ino's progeny divine,
Swift Tritons, born to gambol in the brine,
And Phorcus' finny legions. Melite,
And virgin Panopoea leftward shine,
Thetis, Nesaee, daughters of the sea,
Spio, Thalia fair, and bright Cymodoce.

CXIII. Then o'er AEneas' spirit, racked with fear,
Joy stole in gentle counterchange. He hails
The crews, and biddeth them the masts uprear,
And stretch the sheets. All, tacking, loose the brails
Larboard or starboard, and let go the sails,
And square or sideways to the breeze incline
The lofty sailyards. Welcome blow the gales
Behind them. Palinurus leads the line;
The rest his course obey, and follow at his sign.

CXIV. Damp Night well-nigh had climbed Olympus' crest;
Each slumbering mariner his limbs unbends,
Stretched by his oar, along the bench at rest,
When lo! false Sleep his feathery wings extends.
To guiltless Palinurus he descends,
Parting the scattered shadows. Down he bears
Delusive dreams, and cunning words pretends,
As now, in Phorbas' likeness he appears,
Perched on the lofty stern, and whispers in his ears:

CXV. "Son of Iasus! see, the tide that flows
Bears thee along; behind thee breathes apace
The stern breeze, and the hour invites repose.
Rest now, and cheat thy wearied eyes a space,
Myself will take the rudder in thy place."
"Nay," quoth the pilot, with half-lifted eyes,
"Shall I put faith in ocean's treacherous face,
And trust AEneas to the flattering skies,
I, whom their smiles oft fooled, but folly hath made wise?"

CXVI. So saying, he grasped the tiller, nor his hold
Relaxed, nor ever from the stars withdrew
His steadfast eyes, still watchful when behold!
A slumberous bough the god revealed to view,
Thrice dipt in Styx, and drenched with Lethe's dew.
Then, lightly sprinkling, o'er the pilot's brows
The drowsy dewdrops from the leaves he threw.
Dim grow