He turned, when lo! behind him, gaining fast, Cloanthus.

On the leeward side he stole A narrower compass, grazing as he passed His rival's vessel and the sounding shoal, Then gained safe water, as he turned the goal.
Grief fired young Gyas at the sight, and drew Tears from his eyes and anger from his soul.
Careless alike of honour and his crew, Down from the lofty stern his timorous guide he threw.
XXIV.

Forthwith he grasps the tiller in his hand, Captain and helmsman, and his comrades cheers, And wrests the rudder leftward to the land, Slow from the depths Menoetes reappears, Clogged by his clothes, and cumbered with his years.
Then, shoreward swimming, climbs with feeble craft The rock, and there sits drying.

All with jeers Laughed as he fell and floated; loud they laughed As, sputtering, from his throat he spits the briny draught.
XXV.

Joy, mixt with hope, as Gyas slacks his pace, Fires the two hindmost.