High from the main By seas inviolate one bank of sand, Far from the coast arose; there watched in vain The storm-tossed mariners, their keel aground, No shore descrying.

Thus in sea were lost Some portion, but the major part by helm And rudder guided, and by pilots' hands Who knew the devious channels, safe at length Floated the marsh of Triton loved (as saith The fable) by that god, whose sounding shell (10) All seas and shores re-echo; and by her, Pallas, who springing from her father's head First lit on Libya, nearest land to heaven, (As by its heat is proved); here on the brink She stood, reflected in the placid wave And called herself Tritonis.

Lethe's flood Flows silent near, in fable from a source Infernal sprung, oblivion in his stream; Here, too, that garden of the Hesperids Where once the sleepless dragon held his watch, Shorn of its leafy wealth.

Shame be on him Who calls upon the poet for the proof Of that which in the ancient days befell; But here were golden groves by yellow growth Weighed down in richness, here a maiden band Were guardians; and a serpent, on whose eyes Sleep never fell, was coiled around the trees, Whose branches bowed beneath their ruddy load.
But great Alcides stripped the bending boughs, And bore their shining apples (thus his task Accomplished) to the court of Argos' king.
Driven on the Libyan realms, more fruitful here, Pompeius (11) stayed the fleet, nor further dared In Garamantian waves.

But Cato's soul Leaped in his breast, impatient of delay, To pass the Syrtes by a landward march, And trusting to their swords, 'gainst tribes unknown To lead his legions.