A huge wave, toppling, strikes one astern, in front of his very eyes, one carrying faithful Orontes and the Lycians.The steersman’s thrown out and hurled headlong, face down: but the sea turns the ship three times, driving her round, in place, and the swift vortex swallows her in the deep.
Suddenly clouds take sky and day away from the Trojan’s eyes: dark night rests on the sea.
It thunders from the pole, and the aether flashes thick fire, and all things threaten immediate death to men.
Swimmers appear here and there in the vast waste, men’s weapons, planking, Trojan treasure in the waves.
Now the storm conquers Iloneus’s tough ship, now Achates, now that in which Abas sailed, and old Aletes’s: their timbers sprung in their sides, all the ships let in the hostile tide, and split open at the seams.
Instantly Aeneas groans, his limbs slack with cold: stretching his two hands towards the heavens, he cries out in this voice: ‘Oh, three, four times fortunate were those who chanced to die in front of their father’s eyes under Troy’s high walls! Why could I not have fallen, at your hand, in the fields of Ilium, and poured out my spirit, where fierce Hector lies, beneath Achilles’s spear, and mighty Sarpedon: where Simois rolls, and sweeps away so many shields, helmets, brave bodies, of men, in its waves!
’ Hurling these words out, a howling blast from the north, strikes square on the sail, and lifts the seas to heaven: the oars break: then the prow swings round and offers the beam to the waves: a steep mountain of water follows in a mass.Yet she’d heard of offspring, derived from Trojan blood, that would one day overthrow the Tyrian stronghold: that from them a people would come, wide-ruling, and proud in war, to Libya’s ruin: so the Fates ordained.Fearing this, and remembering the ancient war she had fought before, at Troy, for her dear Argos, (and the cause of her anger and bitter sorrows had not yet passed from her mind: the distant judgement of Paris stayed deep in her heart, the injury to her scorned beauty, her hatred of the race, and abducted Ganymede’s honours) the daughter of Saturn, incited further by this, hurled the Trojans, the Greeks and pitiless Achilles had left, round the whole ocean, keeping them far from Latium: they wandered for many years, driven by fate over all the seas. They were hardly out of sight of Sicily’s isle, in deeper water, joyfully spreading sail, bronze keel ploughing the brine, when Juno, nursing the eternal wound in her breast, spoke to herself: ‘Am I to abandon my purpose, conquered, unable to turn the Teucrian king away from Italy! Wasn’t Pallas able to burn the Argive fleet, to sink it in the sea, because of the guilt and madness of one single man, Ajax, son of Oileus?He owns the wild rocks, home to you, and yours, East Wind: let Aeolus officiate in his palace, and be king in the closed prison of the winds.’ So he speaks, and swifter than his speech, he calms the swollen sea, scatters the gathered cloud, and brings back the sun.Cymothoë and Triton, working together, thrust the ships from the sharp reef: Neptune himself raises them with his trident, parts the vast quicksand, tempers the flood, and glides on weightless wheels, over the tops of the waves. Drepturile reale principale, Gabriel Boroi, Carla Alexandra Anghelescu, Bogdan Nazat, , Ghidul culorilor, Autor, Limba si literatura romana.