BOOK VI.
So cries he while the tears run down,
And gives his fleet the rein,
Till, sailing on, the Euboic town
Of Cumæ they attain:
Toward the sea they turn their prores;
Each weary bark the anchor moors:
The crooked stems[errata 1] invest the shores.
With buoyant hearts the youthful band
Leap out upon the Hesperian strand;
Some seek the fiery sparkles, sown
Deep in the veins of cold flint-stone:
Some fell the silvan-haunted woods,
And point with joy to new-found floods.
But to the height Æneas hies
Where Phœbus holds his seat,
And seeks the cave of wondrous size,
The Sibyl's dread retreat,
The Sibyl, whom the Delian seer
Inspires to see the future clear,
And fills with frenzy's heat:
The grove they enter, and behold
Above their heads the roof of gold.
Sage Dædalus, so runs the tale,
From Minos bent to fly,
On feathery pinions dared to sail
Along the untravelled sky,
