Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/191

Along the winding coast arise
Loud sounds of grief and tearful cries.
Locked in each other's arms they stay,
And clog the wheels of night and day.
Nay, e'en the matrons, e'en the crew
Who shuddered at the ocean's view
And loathed its name, now fain would flee
And brave the hardships of the sea.
With kindliness of gentle speech
The good Æneas comforts each,
And to their kinsman prince commends
With tears his subjects and his friends.
Three calves to Eryx next he kills;
A lambkin's blood to Tempest spills,
And bids them loose from land:
With olive-leaves he binds his brow,
Then takes his station on the prow,
A charger in his hand,
Flings out the entrails on the brine,
And pours a sacred stream of wine.
Fair winds escort them o'er the deep:
With emulous stroke the waves they sweep.

But Venus, torn by many a fear,
Thus breathes her plaint in Neptune's ear:
'Fell Juno's persecuting ire,
Still raging with unsated fire,
Compels me, Neptune, to abase
My pride, and humbly sue for grace.
No lapse of time, how long soe'er,
Nor all the force of duteous prayer,
Nor hest of Jove, nor will of fate
That changeless rancour can abate.
'Tis not enough to have devoured
A queenly city, walled and towered.