Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/118

94 'Tis said Enceladus' huge frame,

Heart-stricken by the avenging flame,

Is prisoned here, and underneath

Gasps through each vent his sulphurous breath:

And still as his tired side shifts round

Trinacria echoes to the sound

Through all its length, while clouds of smoke

The living soul of ether choke.

All night, by forest branches screened,

We writhe as 'neath some torturing fiend,

Nor know the horror's cause:

For stars were none, nor welkin bright

With heavenly fires, but blank black night

The stormy moon withdraws.

And now the day-star, tricked anew,

Had drawn from heaven the veil of dew:

When from the wood, all ghastly wan,

A stranger form, resembling man,

Comes running forth, and takes its way

With suppliant gesture to the bay.

We turn, and look on limbs besmeared

With direst filth, a length of beard,

A dress with thorns held tight:

In all beside, a Greek his style,

Who in his country's arms erewhile

Had sailed at Troy to fight.

Soon as our Dardan arms he saw,

Brief space he stood in wildering awe

And checked his speed: then toward the shore

With cries and weeping onward bore:

'By heaven and heaven's blest powers, I pray,

And life's pure breath, this light of day,

Receive me, Trojans: o'er the seas

Transport mo wheresoe'er you please.