The rites are paid, the nine-days' feast is o'er, Smooth lies the deep, and Southern winds invite The mariners.

Along the winding shore Loud rise the sounds of sorrow, day and night, Where friends, clasped close in lingering undelight, Weep at the thought of parting.

Matrons, ay, And men, who lately shuddered at the sight, And loathed the name of Ocean, scorn to stay, And willing hearts now brave the long, laborious way.
CV.

Kindly AEneas cheers them, and with tears Leaves to their King, then, parting, gives command A lamb to slay to tempest, and three steers To Eryx.

So they loosen from the land.
He on the prow, a charger in his hand, Flings forth the entrails, and outpours the wine, And, crowned with olive chaplet, takes his stand.
Up-springs the favouring stern breeze, as in line With emulous sweep of oars, they brush the level brine.
CVI.