“What pride of birth or power
is yours, ye winds, that, reckless of my will,
audacious thus, ye ride through earth and heaven,
and stir these mountain waves? Such rebels I—
nay, first I calm this tumult! But yourselves
by heavier chastisement shall expiate
hereafter your bold trespass. Haste away
and bear your king this word! Not unto him
dominion o'er the seas and trident dread,
but unto me, Fate gives. Let him possess
wild mountain crags, thy favored haunt and home,
O Eurus! In his barbarous mansion there,
let Aeolus look proud, and play the king
in yon close-bounded prison-house of storms!”
Vergil. Aeneid. Theodore C. Williams. trans. Boston. Houghton Mifflin Co. 1910.
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