To Africa's shores Virgil trusted to thee.
I pray thee restore him, in safety restore him,
And saving him, save me the half of my soul.
"Stout oak and brass triple surrounded his bosom
Who first to the waves of the merciless sea
Committed his frail bark. He feared not Africa's
Fierce battling the gales of the furious North.
"Nor feared he the gloom of the rain-bearing Hyads
Nor the rage of fierce Notus, a tyrant than whom
No storm-god that rules o'er the broad Adriatic