And now had day-tide failed the sky, and Phoebe, sweet and fair, Amid her nightly-straying wain did mid Olympus wear. Æneas, who might give his limbs no whit of peacefulness, Was sitting with the helm in hand, heeding the sail-gear's stress, When lo a company of friends his midmost course do meet: The Nymphs to wit, who Cybele, the goddess holy-sweet, 220 Bade turn from ships to very nymphs, and ocean's godhead have. So evenly they swam the sea, and sundered wave and wave, As many as the brazen beaks once by the sea-side lay; Afar they know their king, and round in dancing-wise they play; But one of them, Cymodocea, who speech-lore knew the best, Drew nigh astern and laid thereon her right hand, with her breast Above the flood, the while her left through quiet waves rowed on, And thus bespoke him all unware: "Wak'st thou, O Godhead's son! Æneas, wake! and loose the sheets and let all canvas fill! We were the pine-trees on a time of Ida's holy hill, 230 Thy ship-host once, but sea-nymphs now: when that Rutulian lord Fell faithless, headlong, on our lives with firebrand and the sword, Unwillingly we brake our bonds and sought thee o'er the main. The Mother in her pity thus hath wrought our shape again, And given us gift of godhead's life in house of ocean's ground. Lo now, the boy Ascanius by dyke and wall is bound Amid the spears, the battle-wood that Latins forth have sent. And now the horse of Arcady, with stout Etruscans blent, Holdeth due tryst. Now is the mind of Turnus firmly set To thrust between them, lest thy camp they succour even yet. 240 Wherefore arise, and when the dawn first climbs the heavenly shore Call on thy folk, and take thy shield unconquered evermore, The Fire-lord's gift, who wrought its lips with circling gold about: Tomorrow's light, unless thou deem'st my words are all to doubt, Shall see Rutulian death in heaps a-lying on the land." Therewith departing, forth she thrust the tall ship with her hand, As one who had good skill therein, and then across the seas Swifter than dart she fled, or shaft that matcheth well the breeze, And straight the others hastened on. All mazed was he of Troy, Anchises' seed, but yet the sign upraised his heart with joy, 250 And, looking to the hollow heaven, in few words prayed he thus "Kind Ida-Mother of the Gods, whose heart loves Dindymus And towered towns, and lions yoked and tamed to bear the bit, Be thou my battle-leader now, and do thou further it, This omen, and with favouring foot the Trojan folk draw nigh."