He spoke, and high the forky trident hurl’d, Rolls clouds on clouds, and stirs the watery world, At once the face of earth and sea deforms, Swells all the winds, and rouses all the storms. Down rushed the night: east, west, together roar; And south and north roll mountains to the shore. Then shook the hero, to despair resign’d, And question’d thus his yet unconquer’d mind; “Wretch that I am! what farther fates attend This life of toils, and what my destined end? Too well, alas! the island goddess knew On the black sea what perils should ensue. New horrors now this destined head inclose; Untill’d is yet the measure of my woes; With what a cloud the brows of heaven are crown’d; What raging winds! what roaring waters round! ’Tis Jove himself the swelling tempest rears; Death, present death, on every side appears. Happy! thrice happy! who, in battle slain, Press’d in Atrides’ cause the Trojan plain! Oh! had I died before that well-fought wall! Had some distinguish’d day renown’d my fall (Such as was that when showers of javelins fled From conquering Troy around Achilles dead), All Greece had paid me solemn funerals then, And spread my glory with the sons of men. A shameful fate now hides my hapless head, Unwept, unnoted, and for ever dead!” A mighty wave rush’d o’er him as he spoke, The raft is cover’d, and the mast is broke; Swept from the deck and from the rudder torn, Far on the swelling surge the chief was borne; While by the howling tempest rent in twain Flew sail and sail-yards rattling o’er the main. Long-press’d, he heaved beneath the weighty wave, Clogg’d by the cumbrous vest Calypso gave; At length, emerging, from his nostrils wide And gushing mouth effused the briny tide; E’en then not mindless of his last retreat, He seized the raft, and leap’d into his seat, Strong with the fear of death. In rolling flood, Now here, now there, impell’d the floating wood As when a heap of gather’d thorns is cast, Now to, now fro, before the autumnal blast; Together clung, it rolls around the field; So roll’d the float, and so its texture held: And now the south, and now the north, bear sway, And now the east the foamy floods obey, And now the west wind whirls it o’er the sea. The wandering chief with toils on toils oppress’d, Leucothea saw, and pity touch’d her breast. (Herself a mortal once, of Cadmus’ strain, But now an azure sister of the main) Swift as a sea-mew springing from the flood, All radiant on the raft the goddess stood; Then thus address’d him: “Thou whom heaven decrees To Neptune’s wrath, stern tyrant of the seas! (Unequal contest!) not his rage and power, Great as he is, such virtue shall devour. What I suggest, thy wisdom will perform: Forsake thy float, and leave it to the storm; Strip off thy garments; Neptune’s fury brave With naked strength, and plunge into the wave. To reach Phæacia all thy nerves extend, There Fate decrees thy miseries shall end. This heavenly scarf beneath thy bosom bind,