Page:Aeneid (Conington 1866).djvu/162

A level, on whose ample breast
The basking sea-birds love to rest.
Thereon an oak with leafy bole
Æneas plants, to form a goal,
That helmsman's eye the spot may mark
And prompt his hand to turn the bark.
Each takes the place his lot assigns:
Proud on the stern each captain shines
With gold and purple dye:
The crews are wreathed with poplar green:
Their naked shoulders oil makes sheen:
And now on rowing-bench they sit,
Bend to the oar their arms close knit,
And straining watch the sign to start;
While generous trembling thrills each heart
And thirst for victory.
Then, at the trumpet's piercing sound,
All from their barriers onward bound:
Upsoars to heaven the oarsman's shout:
The upturned billows froth and spout.
In level lines they plough the deep:
All ocean yawns, as on they sweep,
And three-toothed beak and plashing oar
Tear from its base the marble floor.
Less swift in heady two-horse race
The chariots scour the field apace,
When from their base they dash:
Less eager o'er the tossing manes
The charioteer flings out the reins,
And bends him o'er the lash.
With plaudits loud and clamorous zeal
Echoes the woodland round:
The pent shores roll the thunder-peal,
The stricken hills rebound.
'Mid hurry and tumultuous shout
First Gyas issues from the rout,