"He spake, 'twas done; and Palinurus first Turns the prow leftward: to the left we ply With oars and sail, and shun the rocks accurst.
Now curls the wave, and lifts us to the sky, Now sinks and, plunging in the gulf we lie.
Thrice roar the caverned shore-cliffs, thrice the spray Whirls up and wets the dewy stars on high.
Thus tired we drift, as sinks the wind and day, Unto the Cyclops' shore, all weetless of the way.
LXXIII.

"It was a spacious harbour, sheltered deep From access of the winds, but looming vast With awful ravage, AEtna's neighbouring steep Thundered aloud, and, dark with clouds, upcast Smoke and red cinders in a whirlwind's blast.
Live balls of flame, with showers of sparks, upflew And licked the stars, and in combustion massed, Torn rocks, her ragged entrails, molten new, The rumbling mount belched forth from out the boiling stew.
LXXIV.

"Here, while from AEtna's furnaces the flame Bursts forth, Enceladus, 'tis said, doth lie, Scorched by the lightning.

As his wearied frame He shifts, Trinacria, trembling at the cry Moans through her shores, and smoke involves the sky.
There all night long, screened by the woods, we hear The dreadful sounds, and know not whence nor why, For stars are none, nor planet gilds the sphere; Night holds the moon in clouds, and heaven is dark and drear.
LXXV.

"Now rose the Day-star from the East, and cleared The mists, that melted with advancing Morn, When suddenly from out the woods appeared An uncouth form, a creature wan and worn, Scarce like a man, in piteous plight forlorn.
Suppliant his hands he stretches to the shore; We turn and look on tatters tagged with thorn, Dire squalor and a length of beard,--what more, A Greek, to Troy erewhile in native arms sent o'er.
LXXVI.