gasp; now put out the strength, the spirit I saw you exert
in the Gætulian Syrtes, the Ionian Sea, the entangling 35
waves of Malea. It is not the first place I look for. I
am not the man; this is no struggle for victory—yet
might it be!—but conquest is for them, Neptune, to
whom thou givest it. Let our shame be to come in last;
be this your victory, friends, to keep off disgrace.” Straining
every nerve, they threw themselves forward; their
mighty strokes make the brazen keel quiver, the ground
flies from under them; thick panting shakes their limbs, 5