"Of the old flame forthwith the greater horn Began to roll, murmuring, as a fire That labors with the wind, then to and fro Wagging the top, as a tongue uttering sounds, Threw out its voice, and spake: when I escaped From Circe, who beyond a circling year Had held me near Caieta by her charms, Ere thus Æneas yet had named the shore; Nor fondness for my son, nor reverence Of my old father, nor return of love, That should have crowned Penelope with joy, Could overcome in me the zeal I had To explore the world, and search the ways of life, Man's evil and his virtue. Forth I sailed Into the deep, illimitable main, With but one bark, and the small faithful band That yet cleaved to me. As Iberia far, Far as Marocco, either shore I saw, And the Sardinian and each isle beside Which round that ocean bathes. Tardy with age Were I and my companions, when we came To the strait pass, where Hercules ordain'd The boundaries not to be o'erstepp'd by man The walls of Seville to my right I left, On the other hand already Ceuta past. 'O brothers!' I began, 'who to the West Through perils without number now have reached; To this the short remaining watch, that yet Our senses have to wake, refuse not proof Of the unpeopled world, following the track Of Phoebus. Call to mind from whence ye sprang: Ye were not formed to live the life of brutes, But virtue to pursue and knowledge high.' With these few words I sharpened for the voyage The mind of my associates, that I then Could scarcely have withheld them. To the dawn Our poop we turned, and for the witless flight Made our oars wings, still gaining on the left. Each star of the other pole night now beheld, And ours so low, that from the ocean floor It rose not. Five times re-illumed, as oft Vanish'd the light from underneath the moon, Since the deep way we entered, when from far Appear'd a mountain dim, loftiest methought Of all I e'er beheld. Joy seized us straight; But soon to mourning changed. From the new land A whirlwind sprung, and at her foremost side Did strike the vessel. Thrice it whirl'd her round With all the waves; the fourth time lifted up The poop, and sank the prow: so fate decreed: And over us the booming billow closed."