had the words been breathed, when a black tempest is
set loose, raging with fierce bursts of rain: the thunderpeals 15
thrill through highland and lowland—down from
the whole sky pours a torrent of blinding water, thickened
to blackness by the southern winds—the ships are filled,
the smouldering timbers soaked—till every spark is
quenched at last, and all the vessels, with the loss of four, 20
rescued from the deadly plague.
But father Æneas, staggering under this cruel blow,
began to shift from side to side a vast burden of care, as