he snatches from the scabbard his flashing sword, and with
the drawn blade cuts the hawsers. The spark flies from
man to man; they scour, they scud, they have left the
shore behind; you cannot see the water for ships. With 35
strong strokes they dash the foam, and sweep the blue.
And now Aurora was beginning to sprinkle the earth
with fresh light, rising from Tithonus’[182] saffron couch.
Soon as the queen from her watch-tower saw the gray
dawn brighten, and the fleet moving on with even canvas,
and coast and haven forsaken, with never an oar left,