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No tarrying now, but after sacrifice we twirled the sailyards and shook out all sail, leaving the cities of the sons of Greece and that distrusted land. Tarentum's bay soon smiled before us, town of Hercules, if fame be true; opposing it uptowers Lacinia's headland unto Juno dear, the heights of Caulon, and that sailors' bane, ship-shattering Scylaceum. Thence half seen, trinacrian Aetna cleaves th' horizon line; we hear from far the crash of shouting seas, where lifted billows leap the tide-swept sand. Father Anchises cried: “'T is none but she— Charybdis! Helenus this reef foretold, and rocks of dreadful name. O, fly, my men! Rise like one man with long, strong sweep of oars!” Not unobedient they! First Palinure veered to the leftward wave the willing keel, and sails and oars together leftward strove. We shot to skyward on the arching surge, then, as she sank, dropped deeper than the grave; thrice bellowed the vast cliffs from vaulted wall; thrice saw we spouted foam and showers of <
A spreading bay is there, impregnable to all invading storms; and Aetna's throat with roar of frightful ruin thunders nigh. Now to the realm of light it lifts a cloud of pitch-black, whirling smoke, and fiery dust, shooting out globes of flame, with monster tongues that lick the stars; now huge crags of itself, out of the bowels of the mountain torn, its maw disgorges, while the molten rock rolls screaming skyward; from the nether deep the fathomless abyss makes ebb and flow. Enceladus, his body lightning-scarred, lies prisoned under all, so runs the tale: o'er him gigantic Aetna breathes in fire from crack and seam; and if he haply turn to change his wearied side, Trinacria's isle trembles and moans, and thick fumes mantle heaven. That night in screen and covert of a grove we bore the dire convulsion, unaware whence the loud horror came. For not a star its lamp allowed, nor burned in upper sky the constellated fires, but all was gloom, and frowning night confined the moon in cloud.
Night's course half run, soon as the first repose had banished sleep,—what time some careful wife whose distaff and Minerva's humble toil must earn her bread, rekindling her warm hearth, adds a night-burden to her laboring day, and by the torch-light cheers her maidens on to their long tasks; that so her husband's bed she may in honor keep, and train to power her dear men-children—at such prime of morn, with not less eager mind the Lord of Fire fled his soft couch and to his forges tried. An island near Aeolian Lipara not far from a Sicilian headland lies, where smoking rocks precipitously tower above a vast vault, which the Cyclops' skill outhollowed large as Aetna's thunderous caves. There ring the smitten anvils, and the roof re-echoes, roaring loud. Chalybian ores hiss in the gloom, and from the furnace mouths puff the hot-panting fires. 'T is Vulcan's seat, and all that island is Vulcania. Thither descended now the god of fire from height of heav