The taint all through the air. _Take arms_, I ordered, _We have to fight them_. And my comrades, hiding Their shields in the grass, lay with their swords beside them, And when the birds swooped screaming, and Misenus, Sounded the trumpet-signal, they rose to charge them, A curious kind of battle, men with sword-blades Against the winged obscenities of ocean. Their feathers felt no blow, their backs no wound, They rose to the sky as rapidly as ever, Leaving the souvenirs of their foul traces Over the ruined feast. And one, Celaeno, Perched on a lofty rock, squawked out a warning:-- ‘Is it war you want, for slaughtered goats and bullocks, Is it war you bring, you sons of liars, driving The innocent Harpies from their father’s kingdom? Take notice, then, and let my words forever Stick in your hearts; what Jove has told Apollo, Apollo told me, and I, the greatest fury, Shove down your throats; it is Italy you are after, And the winds will help you, Italy and her harbors You will reach, all right; but you will not wall the city Till, for the wrong you have done us, deadly hunger Will make you gnaw and crunch your very tables!’ She flew back to the forest. My companions Were chilled with sudden fear; their spirit wavered, They call on me, to beg for peace, not now With arms, but vows and praying, filthy birds Or ill-foreboding goddesses, no matter. Anchises prayed with outstretched hands, appeasing The mighty gods with sacrifice:--‘Be gracious, Great gods, ward off the threats, spare the devoted!’ He bade us tear the cable from the shore, Shake loose the sails. And a wind sprang up behind us, Driving us northward; we passed many islands, Zacynthus, wooded, Dulichium, and Same, The cliffs of Neritus, Laertes’ kingdom, With a curse as we went by for Ithaca, Land of Ulysses. Soon Leucate’s headland Came into view, a dreadful place for sailors, Where Apollo had a shrine. We were very weary As we drew near the little town; the anchor Was thrown from the prow, the sterns pulled up on the beaches. This was unhoped-for land; we offered Jove Our purifying rites, and had the altars Burning with sacrifice. We thronged the shore With games of Ilium. Naked, oiled for wrestling, The young held bouts, glad that so many islands Held by the Greeks, were safely passed. A year Went by, and icy winter roughened the waves With gales from the north. A shield of hollow bronze, Borne once by Abas, I fastened to the door-posts, And set a verse below it: _Aeneas won These arms from the Greek victors._ I gave the order To man the thwarts and leave this harbor; all Obeyed, swept oars in rivalry. We left Phaeacia’s airy heights, coasting Epirus, Drawn to Buthrotum, a Chaonian harbor.