And in sore vexation of spirit did hero to hero say: {1250}
‘What manner of land is this? Whither now hath the tempest’s sway
Hurled us? Would God we had dared, all reckless of deadly dismay,
To rush right on through the path of the rocks of the grim sea-gate!
Verily better it were, had we overleapt the fate
Of Zeus, in daring a deed of heroic mood to have died!
But now, what thing should we do, which be prisoned by winds to abide
Here, though but a little span we continue?—in such drear wise
The plain of the limitless land stretcheth up to the lowering skies.’
So cried they: thereafter in utter despair for their evil case