Then good AEneas from his shoulders threw His robe, and heavenward stretched his hands in prayer; "Great Jove! if spares thy vengeance to pursue Troy's children to the uttermost, if e'er The toils of mortals move thy ancient care, Preserve this feeble remnant, and command These flames from further havoc to forbear; Else, if my deeds deserve it, bare thine hand, Launch thine avenging bolt, and slay me as I stand." XCV.

Scarce spake he, when in torrents comes the rain.
Darkly the tempest riots, and the roar Of thunder shakes the mountains and the plain.
Black storm-clouds from the thickening South sweep o'er The darkened heavens, and down a deluge pour.
Drenched are the decks; the timbers, charr'd with heat, Are soaked and smoulder, till the fire no more Raves, and the flames are conquered, and the fleet, Save four alone, survives the fiery plague complete.
XCVI.

Sore-struck, AEneas in his breast debates This way and that, still doubtful to remain In fields Sicilian, mindless of the Fates, Or strive the shores of Italy to gain, Then aged Nautes, wisest of his train, Taught by Tritonian Pallas to unfold What wrathful gods or destinies ordain, In prescient utterance his response unrolled, And thus with cheerful words the anxious chief consoled: XCVII.

"O Goddess-born, where Fate directs the way, 'Tis ours to follow.

Who the best can bear, Best conquers Fortune, be the doom what may.
A friend thou hast, Acestes; bid him share And be a willing partner of thy care.
He too is Trojan, and of seed divine.
Give him the lost ships' crews, and whosoe'er Is faint or feeble, to his charge consign, Old men and sea-sick dames, who glory's quest decline.
XCVIII.