turns and presents the ship’s side to the waves; down
crashes in a heap a craggy mountain of water. Look! 25
these are hanging on the surge’s crest[44]—to those the
yawning deep is giving a glimpse of land down among
the billows; surf and sand are raving together. Three
ships the south catches, and flings upon hidden rocks—rocks 30
which, as they stand with the waves all about them,
the Italians call Altars, an enormous ridge rising above
the sea. Three the east drives from the main on to shallows
and Syrtes,[45] a piteous sight, and dashes them on