And shake the goddess from their altered mind. Not so the raging fires their fury cease, But, lurking in the seams, with seeming peace, Work on their way amid the smouldering tow, Sure in destruction, but in motion slow. The silent plague through the green timber eats, And vomits out a tardy flame by fits. Down to the keels, and upward to the sails, The fire descends, or mounts, but still prevails; Nor buckets poured, nor strength of human hand, Can the victorious element withstand. The pious hero rends his robe, and throws To heaven his hands, and, with his hands, his vows.-- "O Jove! (he cried,) if prayers can yet have place; If thou abhorr'st not all the Dardan race; If any spark of pity still remain; } If gods are gods, and not invoked in vain; } Yet spare the reliques of the Trojan train! } Yet from the flames our burning vessels free! Or let thy fury fall alone on me. At this devoted head thy thunder throw, And send the willing sacrifice below." Scarce had he said, when southern storms arise: From pole to pole the forky lightning flies; Loud rattling shakes the mountains and the plain; Heaven bellies downward, and descends in rain. Whole sheets of water from the clouds are sent, Which, hissing through the planks, the flames prevent And stop the fiery pest. Four ships alone Burn to the waist, and for the fleet atone. But doubtful thoughts the hero's heart divide, If he should still in Sicily reside, Forgetful of his fates,--or tempt the main, In hope the promised Italy to gain. Then Nautes, old and wise, to whom alone The will of heaven by Pallas was foreshown; Versed in portents, experienced, and inspired To tell events, and what the fates required-- Thus while he stood, to neither part inclined, With cheerful words relieved his labouring mind:-- "O goddess-born! resigned in every state, With patience bear, with prudence push, your fate. By suffering well, our fortune we subdue; Fly when she frowns, and, when she calls, pursue. Your friend Acestes is of Trojan kind; To him disclose the secrets of your mind: Trust in his hands your old and useless train, Too numerous for the ships which yet remain-- The feeble, old, indulgent of their ease, The dames who dread the dangers of the seas, With all the dastard crew, who dare not stand The shock of battle with your foes by land. Here you may build a common town for all, And, from Acestes' name, Acesta call." The reasons, with his friend's experience joined, Encouraged much, but more disturbed, his mind. 'Twas dead of night; when, to his slumbering eyes, His father's shade descended from the skies; And thus he spoke:--"O, more than vital breath, Loved while I lived, and dear even after death! O son, in various toils and troubles tossed! The king of heaven employs my careful ghost