their parched throats; sweat flows down in streams.
A mere chance gave them the wished preëminence; for
while Sergestus, blind with passion, keeps driving his prow
towards the rock nearer and nearer, and pressing through
the narrow passage, his ill star entangled him with a projecting 10
crag. The cliffs were jarred, the oars cracked as
they met the sharp flint, and the prow hung where it had
lodged. Up spring the sailors with loud shout, while the
ship stands still. They bring out their iron-shod poles
and pointed boat-hooks, and pick up the broken oars in 15