Worn out with toil, he failed at last to keep
His eyelids from the poppy dew of sleep;
Who knows? but he woke, rudder in his hand,
Drifting, shouts unheard, to an unknown strand.
Vain to trace Palinurus and his fate!
But all knew where the Sibyl kept her state.
In a shrine that Latona’s Children hold,
Their joint domain, and Dædalus of old
Adorned with various art, a huge cliff-wall
Recedes into a cavern; and thence call,