Aeneid

the scanty passage, by his evil star

he grounded on the jutting reef; the cliffs

rang with the blow, and his entangled oars

grated along the jagged granite, while

the prow hung wrecked and helpless. With loud cry

upsprang the sailors, while the ship stood still,

and pushed off with long poles and pointed iron,

or snatched the smashed oars from the whirling tide.

Mnestheus exults; and, roused to keener strife

by happy fortune, with a quicker stroke

of each bright rank of oars, and with the breeze

his prayer implored, skims o'er the obedient wave

and sweeps the level main. Not otherwise

a startled dove, emerging o'er the fields

from secret cavern in the crannied hill

where her safe house and pretty nestlings lie,

soars from her nest, with whirring wings—but soon

through the still sky she takes her path of air

on pinions motionless. So Pristis sped

with Mnestheus, cleaving her last stretch of sea,

by her own impulse wafted. She outstripped

Sergestus first; for he upon the reef

fought with the breakers, desperately shouting

for help, for help in vain, with broken oars

contriving to move on. Then Mnestheus ran

past Gyas, in Chimaera's ponderous hulk,

of pilot now bereft; at last remains

Cloanthus his sole peer, whom he pursues

with a supreme endeavor. From the shore

burst echoing cheers that spur him to the chase,

and wild applause makes all the welkin ring.

The leaders now with eager souls would scorn

to Iose their glory, and faint-hearted fail

to grasp a prize half-won, but fain would buy

honor with life itself; the followers too

are flushed with proud success, and feel them strong

because their strength is proven. Both ships now

with indistinguishable prows had sped

to share one prize,—but with uplifted hands

spread o'er the sea, Cloanthus, suppliant,

called on the gods to bless his votive prayer:

“Ye gods who rule the waves, whose waters be

my pathway now; for you on yonder strand

a white bull at the altar shall be slain

in grateful tribute for a granted vow;

and o'er the salt waves I will scatter far

the entrails, and outpour the flowing wine.”

He spoke; and from the caverns under sea

Phorcus and virgin Panopea heard,

and all the sea-nymphs' choir; while with strong hand

the kindly God of Havens rose and thrust

the gliding ship along, that swifter flew

than south wind, or an arrow from the string,

and soon made land in haven safe and sure.

Aeneas then, assembling all to hear,

by a far-sounding herald's voice proclaimed

Cloanthus victor, and arrayed his brows

with the green laurel-garland; to the crews

three bulls, at choice, were given, and plenteous wine

and talent-weight of silver; to the chiefs

illustrious gifts beside; the victor had

a gold-embroidered mantle with wide band

of undulant Meliboean purple rare,

where, pictured in the woof, young Ganymede

through Ida's forest chased the light-foot deer

with javelin; all flushed and panting he.

But lo! Jove's thunder-bearing eagle fell,

and his strong talons snatched from Ida far

the royal boy, whose aged servitors

reached helpless hands to heaven; his faithful hound

bayed fiercely at the air. To him whose worth

the second place had won, Aeneas gave

a smooth-linked golden corselet, triple-chained,

of which his own victorious hand despoiled

Demoleos, by the swift, embattled stream

of Simois, under Troy,—and bade it be

a glory and defence on valor's field;

scarce might the straining shoulders of two slaves,

Phegeus and Sagaris, the load endure,

yet oft Demoleos in this armor dressed

charged down full speed on routed hosts of Troy.

The third gift was two cauldrons of wrought brass,

and bowls of beaten silver, cunningly

embossed with sculpture fair. Bearing such gifts,

th' exultant victors onward moved, each brow

bound with a purple fillet. But behold!

Sergestus, from the grim rock just dragged off

by cunning toil, one halting rank of oars

left of his many lost, comes crawling in

with vanquished ship, a mockery to all.

As when a serpent, on the highway caught,

some brazen wheel has crushed, or traveller

with heavy-smiting blow left half alive

and mangled by a stone; in vain he moves

in writhing flight; a part is lifted high

with hissing throat and angry, glittering eyes;

but by the wounded part a captive still

he knots him fold on fold: with such a track

the maimed ship labored slow; but by her sails

she still made way, and with full canvas on