Dashed from the tiller, down the pilot rolled.
Thrice round the billow whirled her, as she lay, Then whelmed below.

Strewn here and there behold Arms, planks, lone swimmers in the surges grey, And treasures snatched from Trojan homes away.
Now fail the ships wherein Achates ride And Abas; old Aletes' bark gives way, And brave Ilioneus'.

Each loosened side Through many a gaping seam lets in the baleful tide.
XVIII.

Meanwhile great Neptune, sore amazed, perceived The storm let loose, the turmoil of the sky, And ocean from its lowest depths upheaved.
With calm brow lifted o'er the sea, his eye Beholds Troy's navy scattered far and nigh, And by the waves and ruining heaven oppressed The Trojan crews.

Nor failed he to espy His sister's wiles and hatred.