To those in evil plight to see their ills. The fleet assists its own destruction, too, Prow dashing hard on prow, and side on side; Now sinks it headlong in the yawning flood, And now, belched forth, it sees the air again. 500 One plunges down, of its own weight compelled; Another, through its gaping side, invites Destruction from the raging floods; a third Is smothered by the tenth and mightiest wave. Here idly floats a mangled, shattered thing, Of all its boastful decoration shorn; And there a ship sans sails and oars and all. No lofty mast with hanging spars remains, 505 But, helpless hulks, the shattered vessels drift Upon the boundless sea. Amid such ills, Of what avail the hardy sailor's art? Cold horror holds our limbs. The sailors stand In dumb amaze, and all their tasks forget; While all, in abject terror, drop their oars, And turn their wretched souls to heaven for aid. 510 Now (marvel of the fates!) with common vows The Greeks and Trojans supplicate the skies. Now Pyrrhus envies great Achilles' fate; Ulysses, Ajax'; Menelaüs, Hector's; And Priam seems to Agamemnon blest: Yea all who perished on the plains of Troy, Whose lot it was to die by human hand, Are counted blest of heaven, secure in fame, 515 For they rest safely in the land they won. "Shall winds and waves engulf in common fate The faint of heart who nothing noble dare, And those brave souls who quit themselves like men? Must we for naught resign ourselves to death? O thou of gods who art not even yet With these our evil fortunes satisfied, 520 At last have pity on our woeful plight, Which Ilium itself would weep to see. If still thine anger holds, and 'tis decreed That we of Greece must perish utterly, Why doom these Trojans, for whose sake we die, To share our fate? Allay the raging sea: 525 For this our fleet bears Greeks and Trojans too." So prayed we, but in vain; our suppliant words Were swallowed by the raging storm. And lo, Another shape of death! For Pallas, armed With those swift bolts her angry father wields, Essays what ruin dire her threatening spear, Her aegis set with stony Gorgon's head, 530 And these her father's thunderbolts, can work. Unconquered by his ills, with daring soul, Bold Ajax struggles on. Him, shortening sail With halyards strained, a falling thunderbolt Smote full; again the goddess poised her bolt 535 With hand far backward drawn, like Jove himself, And hurled it true with shock impetuous. Straight fell the bolt, and, piercing man and ship, It strewed them both in ruin on the sea. Still undismayed, he overtops the waves, All charred and blasted like some rugged cliff, 540 And bravely breasts the wildly raging sea.