Now was the world forsaken by the sun, And Phoebe half her nightly race had run. The careful chief, who never closed his eyes, Himself the rudder holds, the sails supplies. A choir of Nereids meet him on the flood,[9] Once his own galleys, hewn from Ida's wood; But now, as many nymphs, the sea they sweep, As rode, before, tall vessels on the deep. They know him from afar; and in a ring Inclose the ship that bore the Trojan king. Cymodoce, whose voice excelled the rest, Above the waves advanced her snowy breast; Her right hand stops the stern; her left divides The curling ocean, and corrects the tides. She spoke for all the choir; and thus began, With pleasing words, to warn the unknowing man:-- "Sleeps our loved lord? O goddess-born! awake! Spread every sail, pursue your watery track, And haste your course. Your navy once were we, From Ida's height descending to the sea; Till Turnus, as at anchor fixed we stood, Presumed to violate our holy wood. Then, loosed from shore, we fled his fires profane, } (Unwillingly we broke our master's chain,) } And since have sought you through the Tuscan main. } The mighty Mother changed our forms to these, And gave us life immortal in the seas. But young Ascanius, in his camp distressed, By your insulting foes is hardly pressed. The Arcadian horsemen, and Etrurian host, Advance in order on the Latian coast: To cut their way the Daunian chief designs, Before their troops can reach the Trojan lines. Thou, when the rosy morn restores the light, First arm thy soldiers for the ensuing fight: Thyself the fated sword of Vulcan wield, And bear aloft the impenetrable shield. To-morrow's sun, unless my skill be vain, Shall see huge heaps of foes in battle slain." Parting, she spoke; and with immortal force Pushed on the vessel in her watery course; For well she knew the way. Impelled behind, The ship flew forward, and outstript the wind. The rest make up. Unknowing of the cause, The chief admires their speed, and happy omens draws. Then thus he prayed, and fixed on heaven his eyes:-- "Hear thou, great Mother of the deities, With turrets crowned! (on Ida's holy hill, Fierce tygers, reined and curbed, obey thy will.) Firm thy own omens; lead us on to fight; And let thy Phrygians conquer in thy right." He said no more. And now renewing day Had chased the shadows of the night away. He charged the soldiers, with preventing care, } Their flags to follow, and their arms prepare; } Warned of the ensuing fight, and bade them hope the war. } Now, from his lofty poop, he viewed below His camp encompassed, and the inclosing foe. His blazing shield, embraced, he held on high; The camp receive the sign, and with loud shouts reply.