Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 2.djvu/223

Fierce Famine is your Lot, for this Misdeed, 335
Reduc'd to grind the Plates on which you feed.
She said; and to the neighb'ring Forest flew:
Our Courage fails us, and our Fears renew.
Hopeless to win by War, to Pray'rs we fall:
And on th' offended Harpies humbly call. 340
And whether Gods, or Birds obscene they were,
Our Vows for Pardon, and for Peace prefer.
But old Anchises, off'ring Sacrifice,
And lifting up to Heav'n his Hands, and Eyes;
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Ador'd the greater Gods: Avert, said he, 345
These Omens, render vain this Prophecy:
And from th' impending Curse, a Pious People free.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Thus having said, he bids us put to Sea;
We loose from Shore our Haulsers, and obey:
And soon with swelling sails, pursue the wat'ry Way.
Amidst our course Zacynthian Woods appear; 351
And next by rocky Neritos we steer:
We fly from Ithaca's detested Shore,
And curse the Land which dire Ulysses bore.
At length Leucates cloudy top appears; 355
And the Sun's Temple, which the Sailor fears.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Resolv'd to breath a while from Labour past,
Our crooked Anchors from the Prow we cast;
And joyful to the little City haste.
Here safe beyond our Hopes, our Vows we pay 360
To Jove, the Guide and Patron of our way.