Now to Æneas' overstrained heart the kindly joy and soft Sinks deep: herewith he biddeth men raise all the masts aloft At swiftest, and along the yards to spread the sails to wind: So all sheet home together then; then leftward with one mind 830 They tack; then tack again to right: the yard-horns up in air They shift and shift, while kindly winds seaward the ship-host bear. But first before all other keels did Palinurus lead The close array, and all were charged to have his course in heed. And now the midmost place of heaven had dewy night drawn nigh, And 'neath the oars on benches hard scattered the shipmen lie, Who all the loosened limbs of them to gentle rest had given; When lo, the very light-winged Sleep stooped from the stars of heaven, Thrusting aside the dusky air and cleaving night atwain: The sackless Palinure he sought with evil dreams and vain. 840 So on the high poop sat the God as Phorbas fashionèd, And as he sat such-like discourse from out his mouth he shed: "Iasian Palinure, unasked the waves our ship-host bear; Soft blow the breezes steadily; the hour for rest is here: Lay down thine head, steal weary eyes from toil a little space, And I will do thy deeds awhile and hold me in thy place." But Palinure with scarce-raised eyes e'en such an answer gave: "To gentle countenance of sea and quiet of the wave Deem'st thou me dull? would'st have me trow in such a monster's truth? And shall I mine Æneas trust to lying breeze forsooth, 850 I, fool of peaceful heaven and sea so many times of old?" So saying to the helm he clung, nor ever left his hold, And all the while the stars above his eyen toward them drew. But lo, the God brought forth a bough wet with Lethean dew, And sleepy with the might of Styx, and shook it therewithal Over his brow, and loosed his lids delaying still to fall: But scarce in first of stealthy sleep his limbs all loosened lay, When, weighing on him, did he tear a space of stern away, And rolled him, helm and wrack and all, into the flowing wave Headlong, and crying oft in vain for fellowship to save: 860 Then Sleep himself amid thin air flew, borne upon the wing. No less the ship-host sails the sea, its safe way following Untroubled 'neath the plighted word of Father Neptune's mouth. So to the Sirens' rocks they draw, a dangerous pass forsooth In yore agone, now white with bones of many a perished man. Thence ever roared the salt sea now as on the rocks it ran; And there the Father felt the ship fare wild and fitfully, Her helmsman lost; so he himself steered o'er the night-tide sea, Sore weeping; for his fellow's end his inmost heart did touch: "O Palinure, that trowed the sky and soft seas overmuch, 870 Now naked on an unknown shore thy resting-place shall be!" BOOK VI.