II. The fleet was on mid-ocean; land no more
Was visible, nor aught but sea and sky;
When lo! above them a black cloud, that bore
Tempest and Night, frowned iron-dark on high,
And the wave, shuddering as the wind swept by,
Curled and was darkened. From the stern loud cries
The pilot Palinurus: "Whence and why
This cloudy rack that gathers o'er the skies?		10
What, father Neptune, now, what mischief dost devise?"
III. So having said, he bade the seamen take
The tackling in, and ply the lusty oar,
Then sloped the mainsheet to the wind, and spake:
"Noble Æneas, e'en if high Jove swore
To bring us safely to Italia's shore,
With skies like these, 'twere hopeless. Westward loom
The dark clouds mustering, and the changed winds roar
Athwart us, and the air is thick with gloom.		19
Vainly we strive to move, and struggle with our doom.

IV. "Come, then, since Fortune hath the mastering hand,
Yield we and turn. Not far, methinks, there lies
A friendly shore, thy [brother Eryx'] land,
And ports Sicanian, if aright these eyes
Recall my former reading of the skies."
Then good Æneas: "Long ago, 'tis plain,
The winds so willed it. I have seen," he cries,
"And marked thee toiling in their teeth in vain.		28
Shift sail and turn the helm. What sweeter shore to gain,
V. "What port more welcome to a wearied fleet
And wave-worn mariners, what land more blest
Than that where still Acestes lives, to greet
His Dardan friends, and in the boon earth's breast
My father's bones, Anchises', are at rest?"
He spake; at once the Trojans strive to gain
The port. Fair breezes, blowing from the West,
Swell out the sails. They bound along the main,		37
And soon with gladdening hearts the well-known shore attain.

VI. Far off [Acestes,] wondering, from a height
The coming of their friendly ships descries,
And hastes to meet them. Roughly is he dight
In Libyan bearskin, as in huntsman's guise;
A pointed javelin in each hand he plies.
Him once a Trojan to [Crimisus] bore,
The stream-god. Mindful of ancestral ties
He hails his weary kinsmen, come once more,		46
And dainty fruits sets forth, and cheers them from his store.
VII. Next dawn had chased the stars, when on the shore
Æneas thus the gathered crews addressed:
"Twelve months have passed, brave Dardans, since we bore
The bones of great Anchises to his rest,
And laid his ashes in the ground, and blessed
The mourning altars by the rolling sea.
And now once more, if rightly I have guessed,
The day is come, which Heaven hath willed to be		55
Sacred for evermore, but ever sad to me.
VIII. This day, though exiled on Gætulian sands,
Or caught by tempests on th' Ægean brine,
Or at Mycenæ in the foemen's hands,
With annual honours will I hold divine,
And head with fitting offerings the shrine.
By chance unsought, now hither are we led,
Yet not, I ween, without the God's design,
Where lie the ashes of my father dead,		64
And greet a friendly port, by favouring breezes sped.
IX. "Come then, with festival his name revere,
Pray we for winds to waft us, and entreat
His shade to take these offerings year by year,
When gathered to our new-built Troy, we meet
In hallowed fanes, his worship to repeat.
See, for each ship two head of hornèd kine
Acestes sends, his Trojan friends to greet
Bid then the home-gods of the Trojan line,		73
With those our host adores, to grace the feast divine.