72 THE GRANITE MONTHLY.
Send forth in fury all thy subjects free ; O'erwhelni their vessels all with direful sweep. And strew them diverse ways amid the watery deep.
Of twice seven nymphs, who near my person wait, Fairest of all is one Dei'ope ; Her will 1 give thee for thy loving mate, In wedlock firm to live in harmony. To pass in gladness all her years with thee. And make thee father of a iDeauteous line." Then answered .Eolus : *' Thine let it be. O queen, to speak \vhate"er thou would'st design. To execute thy will shall evermore be mine.
Thou givest me to enjoy the smiles of Jove. My kingdom and my sceptre of command. To rule the winds and feast with gods above." He said; then with uplifted spear in hand. He smote the mount. Quick, as in ordered band. Hush forth the winds o'er earth with whirling blast; They swoop the sea and pour along the land. And all the deep from lowest depths upcast; East, West, and stormy South, pile up the surges vast.
The creak of ropes succeeds, and doleful cries Of men; and heavy clouds the heavens control, Shutting out daylight from the Trojans' eyes; And night broods o'er the deep. From pole to pole The lightnings Hash and awful thunders roll, And all things threaten death to every man. Forthwith ^Eneas. all unmanned in soul, While through his limbs a freezing tremor ran. Stretched forth his hands to heaven, and, groaning, thus began :
" O blest were ye ! thrice favored of us all. Whose lot it was. before your fathers' eyes. By Troy's dear sacred walls in death to fall ! Thou son of Tydeus! of all Greek allies Most brave. O had I been thy prize. Slain by thy hand to join the spirit throng. Where 'neath Achilles* lance great Hector lies.— Where fell Sarpedon, where Simois rolls along The shields and helms of men and bodies of the strong:. "
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��While thus he cried the rushing northern gales Burst in dire tempest on the foaming tide ; Lift to the clouds the sea, and smite his sails; With shattered oars his vessel yields her side ; Some ships upon the mountain billows ride. And some the bottom of the deep descry. And three the south wind, in his angry pride. In whirlpools dashed on hidden rocks that lie In midmost sea. called Altars still in Italy.
Three more, the victims of the eastern blast. Were dashed on shallows of the moving sand; There, woeful sight, were they entangled fast. And in mid-sea were left and moored a-land. One with Orontes and his Lycian band. To certain wreck the whirling waters threw; The men were struggling seen, and near at hand. Were lost for ever in their chief tain's view. And Trojan goods and arms the foaming flood bestrew.
And now Ilioneus' ship doth reel. \nd Abas' vessel in dread terror rides.
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