Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/111

But when Sicilia's shore you near
And dim Pelorns' strait grows clear,
Seek the south coast, though long the run
To make its round: the northern shun.
These lands, they say, by rupture strange
(So much can time's dark process change)
Were cleft in sunder long agone,
When erst the twain had been but one:
Between them rushed the deep, and rent
The island from the continent,
And now with interfusing tides
'Twixt severed lands and cities glides.
There Scylla guards the right-hand coast:
The left is fell Charybdis' post;
Thrice from the lowest gulf she draws
The water down her giant jaws,
Thrice sends it foaming back to day,
And deluges the heaven with spray.
But Scylla crouches in the gloom
Deep in a cavern's monstrous womb;
Thence darts her ravening mouth, and drags
The helpless vessels on the crags.
Above she shows a human face
And breasts resembling maiden grace:
Below, 'tis all a hideous whale,
Wolfs belly linked to dolphin's tail.
Far better past Pachynus' cape
Your journey's tedious circuit shape,
Than catch one glimpse of Scylla's cell
And hear those grisly hellhounds yell.
And now, if Helenus speak sooth,
If Phœbus fill his soul with truth,
One charge, one sovereign charge I press,
And stamp it with reiterate stress
Deep in your memory: first of all
On Juno, mighty Juno, call: