And first an angry glance on both he cast, Then thus rebuked--"Audacious winds! from whence This bold attempt, this rebel insolence? Is it for you to ravage seas and land, Un-authorized by my supreme command? To raise such mountains on the troubled main? } Whom I--but first 'tis fit the billows to restrain; } And then you shall be taught obedience to my reign. } Hence! to your lord my royal mandate bear-- The realms of ocean and the fields of air Are mine, not his.[95] By fatal lot to me The liquid empire fell, and trident of the sea. His power to hollow caverns is confined: There let him reign, the jailor of the wind, With hoarse commands his breathing subjects call, And boast and bluster in his empty hall." He spoke--and, while he spoke, he smoothed the sea, Dispelled the darkness, and restored the day. Cymothoë, Triton, and the sea-green train Of beauteous nymphs, the daughters of the main, Clear from the rocks the vessels with their hands: } The god himself with ready trident stands, } And opes the deep, and spreads the moving sands; } Then heaves them off the shoals.--Where'er he guides } His finny coursers, and in triumph rides, } The waves unruffle, and the sea subsides. } As, when in tumults rise the ignoble crowd, Mad are their motions, and their tongues are loud; And stones and brands in rattling volleys fly, And all the rustic arms that fury can supply: If then some grave and pious man appear, They hush their noise, and lend a listening ear: He sooths with sober words their angry mood, And quenches their innate desire of blood: So, when the father of the flood appears, And o'er the seas his sovereign trident rears, Their fury falls: he skims the liquid plains, } High on his chariot, and, with loosened reins, } Majestic moves along, and awful peace maintains. } The weary Trojans ply their shattered oars To nearest land, and make the Libyan shores. Within a long recess there lies a bay: An island shades it from the rolling sea, And forms a port secure for ships to ride: } Broke by the jutting land, on either side, } In double streams the briny waters glide, } Betwixt two rows of rocks: a sylvan scene Appears above, and groves for ever green: A grot is formed beneath, with mossy seats, To rest the Nereïds, and exclude the heats. Down through the crannies of the living walls, The crystal streams descend in murmuring falls. No halsers need to bind the vessels here, Nor bearded anchors; for no storms they fear. Seven ships within this happy harbour meet, The thin remainders of the scattered fleet. The Trojans, worn with toils, and spent with woes, Leap on the welcome land, and seek their wished repose.