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So, safe at land, our hopeless peril past, we offered thanks to Jove, and kindled high his altars with our feast and sacrifice; then, gathering on Actium's holy shore, made fair solemnities of pomp and game. My youth, anointing their smooth, naked limbs, wrestled our wonted way. For glad were we, who past so many isles of Greece had sped and 'scaped our circling foes. Now had the sun rolled through the year's full circle, and the waves were rough with icy winter's northern gales. I hung for trophy on that temple door a swelling shield of brass (which once was worn by mighty Abas) graven with this line: SPOIL OF AENEAS FROM TRIUMPHANT FOES. Then from that haven I command them forth; my good crews take the thwarts, smiting the sea with rival strokes, and skim the level main. Soon sank Phaeacia's wind-swept citadels out of our view; we skirted the bold shores of proud Epirus, in Chaonian land, and made Buthrotum's port and towering town.