Toward the splash of the wave, but of course he could not catch us, And then he howled in a rage, and the sea was frightened, Italy deeply shaken, and all Etna Rumbled in echoing terror in her caverns. Out of the woods and the thicket of the mountains The Cyclops came, the others, toward the harbor, Along the coast-line. We could see them standing In impotent anger, the wild eye-ball glaring, A grim assortment, brothers, tall as mountains Where oak and cypress tower, in the groves Of Jove or great Diana. In our speed And terror, we sailed anywhere, forgetting What Helenus had said: Scylla, Charybdis, Were nothing to us then. But we remembered In time, and a north wind came from strait Pelorus, We passed Pantagia, and the harbor-mouth Set in the living-rock, Thapsus, low-lying, The bay called Megara: all these were places That Achaemenides knew well, recalling The scenes of former wanderings with Ulysses. An island faces the Sicanian bay Against Plemyrium, washed by waves; this island Has an old name, Ortygia. The story Tells of a river, Alpheus, come from Elis, By a secret channel undersea, to join The Arethusan fountains, mingling here With the Sicilian waters. Here we worshipped The land’s great gods; went on, to pass Helorus, A rich and marshy land; and then Pachynus Where the cliffs rose sharp and high; and Camerina, With firm foundation; the Geloan plains, And Gela, named for a river; then Acragas, A towering town, high-walled, and sometime famous For its breed of horses; the city of palms, Selinus; The shoals of Lilybaeum, where the rocks Are a hidden danger; so at last we came To Drepanum, a harbor and a shoreline That I could not rejoice in, a survivor Of all those storms of the sea. For here I lost My comforter in all my care and trouble, My father Anchises. All the storms and perils, All of the weariness endured, seemed nothing Compared with this disaster; and I had No warning of it; neither Helenus, Though he foretold much trouble, nor Celaeno, That evil harpy, prophesied this sorrow. There was nothing more to bear; the long roads ended At that unhappy goal; and when I left there, Some god or other brought me to your shores.’ And so he told the story, a lonely man To eager listeners, destiny and voyage, And made an end of it here, ceased, and was quiet. BOOK IV AENEAS AND DIDO