And now father Æneas feels a soft thrill of succeeding
joy shoot through his anxious bosom; at once he bids
every mast be reared, every sail stretched on its yard-arm.
One and all strain the rope and loosen the sheet, now right,
now left—one and all turn to and fro the sailyard’s lofty 20
horns; the fleet is wafted by the gales it loves. First,
before all, Palinurus led the crowding ranks; after him the
rest, as bidden, shaped their course. And now dewy
Night had well-nigh reached the cope of heaven’s arch—in
calm repose the sailors were relaxing their limbs, 25