Page:Pindar and Anacreon.djvu/134

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Skill'd in each bird that cleaves the sky,

And sacred lots of augury,

Mopsus enjoin'd the host their sail

To spread before the favouring gale.

But when they hang upon the prow

Their anchors o'er the deep below,

Fix'd at the stern, the chief displays

His sacred vial's golden blaze.

Invoking heaven's great father Jove,

Who wields his lightning spear above;

Waves that o'er ocean's bosom play,

And breezes' every varying way,

Calm nights and days his prayers implore,

And sweet return, their wanderings o'er.

Propitious thunder's awful sound

Heaven's favouring answer quickly spoke,

And lightning's forked darts around

From all the clouds irradiate broke.

Elated at the prosperous sign,

The heroes glow with joy divine.

The augur issued his command

To ply their oars with constant force,

Suggesting to the valiant band

Sweet hopes to cheer them on their course.

Quick gaining with the breezy south

Th' inhospitable ocean's mouth,

There to the god a shrine they rear

Who sways the raging sea's career.

(Of Thracian bulls a tawny herd,

To aid the sacrifice, appear'd,)

And hollow altar's heaven-built pile,

From stony quarry hewn erewhile.

Not yet the dangerous pass explored,

They supplicate the vessel's lord

To fly the inevitable shock

That springs from the twin clashing rock.