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With streaming mane on buoyant winds outspread,From Acta's coast, full far, his westward course had sped.

X.Across the wild Ionian floods that pour Libations low at burning Ætna's feet,Where grand Charybdis breathes his sullen roar, Where Tyrrhene gulfs their Alpine boundaries beat, Through pillar-guarded straits that roll to meetThe deep Atlantic—cool with Arctic streams, And sounding airs too swift for summer-heat,Yet fresh and pure as childhood's morning-dreams—He came, the god, for whom with life old ocean teems.

XI.Around the reverent water-creatures trooped, Nereid or nymph or siren, each unveiledHer wondrous eyes, whose teary lashes drooped O'er lovely cheeks with cavern-slumbers paled;