get hold of the soil.” Tarchon having thus said, his crew
rise on their oars and bear down on the Latian plains with
vessels all foam, till the beaks have gained the dry land, 10
and every keel has come scatheless to its rest. Not so
thy ship, Tarchon: for while dashed on a sandbank it
totters on the unequal ridge, poised in suspense awhile,
and buffeting the waves, its sides give way, and its men
are set down in the midst of the water: broken oars and 15
floating benches entangle them, and their feet are carried
back by the ebb of the wave.