ld horses with gold and fastens the foaming bits, and
letting all the reins run slack in his hand, flies lightly in his
sea-coloured chariot over the ocean surface. The waves sink to rest, and
the swoln water-ways smooth out under the thundering axle; the
storm-clouds scatter from the vast sky. Diverse shapes attend him,
monstrous whales, and Glaucus' aged choir, and Palaemon, son of Ino, the
swift Tritons, and Phorcus with all his army. Thetis and Melite keep the
left, and maiden Panopea, Nesaea and Spio, Thalia and Cymodoce.

[827-860]At this lord Aeneas' soul is thrilled with soft counterchange
of delight. He bids all the masts be upreared with speed, and the sails
stretched on the yards. Together all set their sheets, and all at once
slacken their canvas to left and again to right; together they brace and
unbrace the yard-arms aloft; prosperous gales waft the fleet along.
First, in front of all, Palinurus steered the close column; the rest
under orders ply their course by his. And now dewy Night had just
reached heaven's mid-cone; the sailors, stretched on their hard benches
under the oars, relaxed their limbs in quiet rest: when Sleep, sliding
lightly down from the starry sky, parted the shadowy air and cleft the
dark, seeking thee, O Palinurus, carrying dreams of bale to thee who
dreamt not of harm, and lit on the high stern, a god in Phorbas'
likeness, dropping this speech from his lips: 'Palinurus son of Iasus,
the very seas bear our fleet along; the breezes breathe steadily; for an
hour rest is given. Lay down thine head, and steal thy worn eyes from
their toil. I myself for a little will take thy duty in thy stead.' To
whom Palinurus, scarcely lifting his eyes, returns: 'Wouldst thou have
me ignorant what the calm face of the brine means, and the waves at
rest? Shall I have faith in this perilous thing? How shall I trust
Aeneas to deceitful breezes, and the placid treachery of sky that hath
so often deceived me?' Such words he uttered, and, clinging fast to the
tiller, slackened hold no whit, and looked up steadily on the stars. Lo!
the god shakes over either temple a bough dripping with Lethean dew and
made slumberous with the might of Styx, and makes his swimming eyes
relax their struggles. Scarcely had sleep begun to slacken his limbs
unaware, when bending down, he flung him sheer into the clear water,
tearing rudder and half the stern away with him, and many a time crying
vainly on his comrades: himself [86