Down he bears Delusive dreams, and cunning words pretends, As now, in Phorbas' likeness he appears, Perched on the lofty stern, and whispers in his ears: CXV.

"Son of Iasus! see, the tide that flows Bears thee along; behind thee breathes apace The stern breeze, and the hour invites repose.
Rest now, and cheat thy wearied eyes a space, Myself will take the rudder in thy place." "Nay," quoth the pilot, with half-lifted eyes, "Shall I put faith in ocean's treacherous face, And trust AEneas to the flattering skies, I, whom their smiles oft fooled, but folly hath made wise ?" CXVI.

So saying, he grasped the tiller, nor his hold Relaxed, nor ever from the stars withdrew His steadfast eyes, still watchful when behold! A slumberous bough the god revealed to view, Thrice dipt in Styx, and drenched with Lethe's dew.
Then, lightly sprinkling, o'er the pilot's brows The drowsy dewdrops from the leaves he threw.
Dim grow his eyes; the languor of repose Steals o'er his faltering sense, the lingering eyelids close.
CXVII.

Scarce now his limbs were loosened by the spell, Down weighed the god, and in the rolling main Dashed him headforemost, clutching, as he fell, Stern timbers torn, and rudder rent in twain, And calling oft his comrades, but in vain.
This done, his wings he balanced, and away Soared skyward.

Natheless o'er the broad sea-plain The ships sail on; safe lies the watery way, For Neptune's plighted words the seamen's cares allay.
CXVIII.