wished it to be burned after his death, and could hardly be persuaded to leave its fate in the hands of his friends. His death came before he had perfected the poem, and its most perfect parts show what he wished it all to be and what it might have become had his life been spared. Even though it lacks the master’s final revision, it remains the greatest poem of Roman times and one of the greatest poems of all ages. [Sidenote: Imitation of Homer.] The _Æneid_ was to be for the Romans what the _Iliad_ and the _Odyssey_ together were for the Greeks. The first six books are modelled chiefly on the _Odyssey_. As the _Odyssey_ tells of the wanderings and adventures of Odysseus before he reaches his home, so these books of the _Æneid_ tell of the adventures of Æneas on his voyage from Troy to Italy, and more than one passage shows how constantly the _Odyssey_ was in the poet’s mind. The last six books tell of the struggles of Æneas and his followers against the warriors who opposed their settlement in Italy; and here the combats described in the _Iliad_ are imitated, sometimes even in details. In the final struggle Æneas is a second Achilles, and the brave but unfortunate Turnus is an Italian Hector. In the first book, after a brief introduction, the poem begins in the midst of the story. The fleet of Æneas is off the coast of Sicily, when Juno causes the wind-god, Æolus, to rouse a storm. The Trojan vessels are driven on the rocks, and the sea is stirred to its lowest depths. Then Neptune, angered that his waters are thus tossed about without his consent, rebukes Æolus, and puts the waves to rest: He said, and ere his words were done, Allays the surge, brings back the sun: Triton and swift Cymothoë drag The ships from off the pointed crag: He, trident-armed, each dull weight heaves, Through the vast shoals a passage cleaves, Makes smooth the ruffled wave, and rides Calm o’er the surface of the tides. As when sedition oft has stirred In some great town the vulgar herd, And brands and stones already fly— For rage has weapons always nigh— Then should some man of worth appear Whose stainless virtue all revere, They hush, they hist: his clear voice rules Their rebel wills, their anger cools: So ocean ceased at once to rave, When, calmly looking o’er the wave, Girt with a range of azure sky, The father bids his chariot fly.[61]