It split atwain, when heretofore the two lands, saith the tale, Had been but one, the sea rushed in and clave with mighty flood Hesperia's side from Italy, and field and city stood Drawn back on either shore, along a sundering sea-race strait. There Scylla on the right hand lurks, the left insatiate 420 Charybdis holds, who in her maw all whirling deep adown Sucketh the great flood tumbling in thrice daily, which out-thrown Thrice daily doth she spout on high, smiting the stars with brine. But Scylla doth the hidden hole of mirky cave confine; With face thrust forth she draweth ships on to that stony bed; Manlike above, with maiden breast and lovely fashioned Down to the midst, she hath below huge body of a whale, And unto maw of wolfish heads is knit a dolphin's tail. 'Tis better far to win about Pachynus, outer ness Of Sicily, and reach long round, despite the weariness, 430 Than have that ugly sight of her within her awful den, And hear her coal-blue baying dogs and rocks that ring again. Now furthermore if Helenus in anything have skill, Or aught of trust, or if his soul with sooth Apollo fill, Of one thing, Goddess-born, will I forewarn thee over all, And spoken o'er and o'er again my word on thee shall fall: The mighty Juno's godhead first let many a prayer seek home; To Juno sing your vows in joy, with suppliant gifts o'ercome That Lady of all Might; and so, Trinacria overpast, Shalt thou be sped to Italy victorious at the last. 440 When there thou com'st and Cumæ's town amidst thy way hast found, The Holy Meres, Avernus' woods fruitful of many a sound, There the wild seer-maid shalt thou see, who in a rock-hewn cave Singeth of fate, and letteth leaves her names and tokens have: But whatso song upon those leaves the maiden seer hath writ She ordereth duly, and in den of live stone leaveth it: There lie the written leaves unmoved, nor shift their ordered rows. But when the hinge works round, and thence a light air on them blows, Then, when the door doth disarray among the frail leaves bear, To catch them fluttering in the cave she never hath a care, 450 Nor will she set them back again nor make the song-words meet; So folk unanswered go their ways and loathe the Sibyl's seat. But thou, count not the cost of time that there thou hast to spend; Although thy fellows blame thee sore, and length of way to wend Call on thy sails, and thou may'st fill their folds with happy gale, Draw nigh the seer, and strive with prayers to have her holy tale; Beseech her sing, and that her words from willing tongue go free: So reverenced shall she tell thee tale of folk of Italy And wars to come; and how to 'scape, and how to bear each ill, And with a happy end at last thy wandering shall fulfil. 460