Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/149

Such plainings burst from that lone heart:
Æneas, ready to depart,
Slept, in his vessel laid,
When Mercury in his dreams was seen
Returning with the self-same mien,
And this monition made,
(The voice, the hair, the blooming cheek,
The graceful limbs the god bespeak):
'What? with such perilous deed in hand,
Infatuate, can you sleep,
Nor see what dangers round you stand,
Nor hear the Zephyrs from the land
Blow fair upon the deep?
She, bent on death, fell crime conceives,
And with tempestuous passion heaves:
And fly you not the net she weaves,
While yet 'tis time for flight?
With vessels all the sea will swarm,
And all the coast with flame be warm,
And fiercely glare the blazing brand,
If, lingering on this Punic land,
You meet the morning light.
Away to sea! a woman's will
Is changeful and uncertain still.'
He said, and mixed with night.

The phantom broke Æneas' sleep:
From bed he springs with sudden leap,
And wakes his weary men:
'Quick, rouse you, gallants! catch the gale:
Sit to the oar, unfurl the sail!
A god, commissioned from on high,
Commands us cut our cords and fly:
Behold him yet again!
Yes, gracious Power! whate'er thy style,
We gladly follow and obey: