BOOK XII. THUS o'er the rolling surge the vessel flies, At once we fix our halsers on the land, At once descend, and press the desert sand; There worn and wasted, lose our cares in sleep, To the hoarse murmurs of the rolling deep. Soon as the morn restor❜d the day, we pay'd Sepulchral honous to Elpenor's shade. And a loud groan re-echoes from the main. 5 10 15 A rising tomb, the silent dead to grace, And high above it rose the tap'ring oar. 20 Meantime the goddess our return survey'd From the pale ghosts, and hell's tremendous shade. Swift she descends: a train of nymphs divine 25 Bear the rich viands and the gen'rous wine. In act to speak the pow'r of magic stands, And graceful thus accosts the list'ning bands: O sons of woe! decreed by adverse fates Alive to pass through hell's eternal gates! 30 All, soon or late, are doom'd that path to tread; More wretched you, twice number'd with the dead! This day adjourn your cares; exalt your souls, Indulge the taste, and drain the sparkling bowls; And when the morn unveils her saffron ray, 35 Spread your broad sails, and plough the liquid way: Lo I this night, your faithful guide, explain Your woes by land, your dangers on the main. The goddess spoke; in feasts we waste the day, Till Phoebus downward plung'd his burning ray; Then sable night ascends, and balmy rest Seals ev'ry eye, and calms the troubled breast. 45 Then curious, she commands me to relate seas; 50 Their song These seas o'erpass'd, be wise! but I refrain To mark distinct thy voyage o'er the main : New horrors rise! let prudence be thy guide, 69 And guard thy various passage through the tide. High o'er the main two rocks exalt their brow, The boiling billows thund'ring roll below; Through the vast waves the dreadful wonders move, Hence nam'd Erratic by the gods above. 75 No bird of air, no dove of swiftest wing, pires, And the waves flashing seem to burn with fires. Scarce the fam'd Argo pass'd these raging floods, The sacred Argo, fill'd with demigods! E'en she had sunk, but Jove's imperial bride 85 Wing'd her fleet sail, and push'd her o'er the tide. High in the air the rock its summit shrouds In brooding tempests, and in rolling clouds; Loud storms around and mists eternal rise, Beat its bleak brow, and intercept the skies. 90 When all the broad expansion bright with day The summer and the autumn glow in vain, 95 Though borne by twenty feet, though arm'd with twenty hands; Smooth as the polish of the mirror, rise 100 Sent with full force, could reach the depth below. Wide to the west the horrid gulf extends, 105 And the dire passage down to hell descends. preads; 110 Six horrid necks she rears, and six terrific heads; |