"And next Tarentum’s bay, Named, if report be true, from Hercules, Is seen; and opposite lifts up her head The goddess of Lacinia; and the heights Appear of Caulon, and the dangerous rocks Of Sylaceum. Then far off we see Trinacrian Ætna rising from the waves; And now we hear the ocean’s awful roar, The breakers dashing on the rocks, the moan Of broken voices on the shore. The deeps Leap up, and sand is mixed with boiling foam. “Charybdis!” cries Anchises; “lo, the cliffs, The dreadful rocks that Helenus foretold! Save us,—bear off, my men! With equal stroke Bend on your oars!” No sooner said than done. With groaning rudder Palinurus turns The prow to the left, and the whole cohort strain With oar and sail, and seek a southern course. The curving wave one moment lifts us up Skyward, then sinks us down as in the shades Of death. Three times amid their hollow caves The cliffs resound; three times we saw the foam Dashed,—that the stars hung dripping wet with dew. Meanwhile, abandoned by the wind and sun, Weary, and ignorant of our course, we are thrown Upon the Cyclops’ shore."