Far out in the water, facing the foaming shores, There lies a rock, which the swollen waves beat over On stormy days when gales blot out the stars, But quiet in calm weather, a level landing For the sun-loving sea-gulls. Here Aeneas Sets a green bough of holm-oak, as a signal To mark the turning-point; to this the sailors Must row, then turn, and double back. The places Are chosen by lot; the captains are set off, Shining in gold and purple; all the sailors Wear poplar-wreaths, and their naked shoulders glisten With the smear of oil. They are at their places, straining Arms stretched to the oars, waiting the word, and their chests Heave, and their hearts are pumping fast; ambition And nervousness take hold of them. The signal! They shoot away; the noise goes up to the heavens, The arms pull back to the chests, the water is churned To a foam like snow; the start is very even, The sea gapes open under the rush of the beaks And the pull of the oars. The racers go no faster When the chariots take the field, and the barrier springs Cars into action, and the drivers lash Whipping and shaking the reins. Applause and shouting Volley and ring, and shrill excitement rises From some with bets on the issue; all the woodland Resounds, the shores are loud, and the beaten hillside Sends back the uproar. Gyas beats the others In the rush of the starting sprint; Cloanthus follows, With a better crew, but a slower, heavier vessel; Behind them come the _Dragon_ and the _Centaur_, With no advantage either way; first one, And then the other, has it, moving even With long keels through salt water; and the leader Has almost reached the rock, the turn; that’s Gyas, The captain, yelling loudly at his pilot:-- “Menoetes, what the hell! Why are you steering So far off to the right? Bring her in closer, This way, let the oars just miss the rocks, hug shore, Cut her close here on the left; let the other fellows Stay out as far as they like.” Menoetes, though, Feared unseen rocks, and made for open water. “Why so far off the course? The rock, Menoetes, Keep close to the rock!” And while he shouted, Gyas Could see Cloanthus coming up behind him Inside him, on the left, and gaining, gaining. Between the roar of the rock and the ship of Gyas, Cloanthus grazed his way, and passed the leader, Made the turn safely, and reached open water. Then Gyas really was burnt up; he was crying In rage; to hell with pride, to hell with safety! He grabbed that cautious pilot of his, and heaved him Over the stern, he took the rudder over, Steering for shore, and yelling at the sailors, As old Menoetes slowly came to the surface, His heavy garments dripping, clawing and scrambling Up to the top of the rock, to perch there, drying,