Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/194

170 He bids them all their masts uprear,

And spread their sails to wind.

All at the word throughout the fleet

Stretch out the canvass on the sheet,

Now left, now right, alike they shift:

The gales are kind, the barks fly swift;

First Palinurus leads the way;

The rest observe him, and obey.

Now Night's fleet coursers almost reach

The summit of the sky:

The weary oarsmen, all and each,

Along the benches lie,

When lo! false Sleep, on pinions light,

Drops down from heaven and cleaves the night;

Sad dreams to thee beneath his wings,

Unhappy Palinure, he brings,

Lights on the stern in Phorbas' guise,

And thus with soft enticement plies:

'See, Palinure, the vessels glide

E'en with the motion of the tide;

The breeze with steady current blows;

The very hour invites repose:

Rest your tired head, and for awhile

Those hard-tasked eyes of toil beguile;

Myself will take, for that short space,

The rudder, and supply your place.'

Scarce lifting from the heaven his eyes,

The wary Palinure replies:

'What? I the dupe of Ocean's wiles?

I trust this fiend that fawns and smiles?

Commit Æneas to the gale,

Who oft have proved how false its tale?'

Thus as he speaks, his hand and eye

Cleave to the rudder and the sky;

When lo! the god a slumberous bough

With dews of Styx and Lethe wet