XXVIII.
And some impel through foaming billows now
The hissing keel, and some tumultuous stand
Upon the deck, or crowd about the prow,
Waiting to leap to land.
XXIX.
And them had thus this lodestar of delight
Drawn to their ruin wholly, but for one
Of their own selves, who struck his lyre with might,
Calliope’s great son.