"So when their screams descending fill the strand, Misenus from his outlook sounds the fray.
All to the strange encounter, sword in hand, Rush forth, these miscreants of the deep to slay.
No wounds they take, no weapon wins its way.
Swiftly they soar, all leaving, ere they go, Their filthy traces on the half-gorged prey.
One perched, Celaeno, on a rock, and lo, Thus croaked the dismal seer her prophecy of woe.
XXXIII.

"'War, too, Laomedon's twice-perjured race! War do ye bring, our cattle stol'n and slain?
And unoffending Harpies would ye chase Forth from their old, hereditary reign?
Mark then my words and in your breasts retain.
What Jove, the Sire omnipotent, of old Revealed to Phoebus, and to me again Phoebus Apollo at his hest foretold, I now to thee and thine, the Furies' Queen, unfold.
XXXIV.

"'Ye seek Italia and, with favouring wind, Shall reach Italia, and her ports attain.
But ne'er the town, by Destiny assigned, Your walls shall gird, till famine's pangs constrain To gnaw your boards, in quittance for our slain.' So spake the Fiend, and backward to the wood Soared on the wing.

Cold horror froze each vein.
Aghast and shuddering my comrades stood; Down sank at once each heart, and terror chilled the blood.
XXXV.

"No more with arms, for peace with vows and prayer We sue, and pardon of these powers implore, Or be they goddesses or birds of air Obscene and dire; and lifting on the shore His hands, Anchises doth the gods adore.
'O Heaven!' he cries, 'avert these threats; be kind And stay the curse, and vex with plagues no more A pious folk,' then bids the crews unbind The stern-ropes, loose the sheets and spread them to the wind.
XXXVI.