These flames from further havoc to forbear;
Else, if my deeds deserve it, bare thine hand,
Launch thine avenging bolt, and slay me as I stand."

XCV. Scarce spake he, when in torrents comes the rain.
Darkly the tempest riots, and the roar
Of thunder shakes the mountains and the plain.
Black storm-clouds from the thickening South sweep o'er
The darkened heavens, and down a deluge pour.
Drenched are the decks; the timbers, charr'd with heat,
Are soaked and smoulder, till the fire no more
Raves, and the flames are conquered, and the fleet,
Save four alone, survives the fiery plague complete.

XCVI. Sore-struck, AEneas in his breast debates
This way and that, still doubtful to remain
In fields Sicilian, mindless of the Fates,
Or strive the shores of Italy to gain,
Then aged Nautes, wisest of his train,
Taught by Tritonian Pallas to unfold
What wrathful gods or destinies ordain,
In prescient utterance his response unrolled,
And thus with cheerful words the anxious chief consoled:

XCVII. "O Goddess-born, where Fate directs the way,
'Tis ours to follow. Who the best can bear,
Best conquers Fortune, be the doom what may.
A friend thou hast, Acestes; bid him share
And be a willing partner of thy care.
He too is Trojan, and of seed divine.
Give him the lost ships' crews, and whosoe'er
Is faint or feeble, to his charge consign,
Old men and sea-sick dames, who glory's quest decline.

XCVIII. "Here let them rest, who care not for renown,
And build their walls, and, if our host assent,
Acesta from Acestes name the town."
Such counsel cheered him, but his breast is rent
With trouble, musing on the dark event.
And now black Night, upon her course midway,
With ebon car had climbed the steep ascent,
When, gliding down before him as he lay,
His father's phantom stood, and speaking, seemed to say:

XCIX. "O dearer than the life, while life remained,
My son, by Troy's hard destinies sore tried,
Hither I come at Jove's command, who deigned
Thy burning ships to save, and pitying-eyed
Beholds thy sorrows. Hear then, nor deride
The grey-haired Nautes, for his words are good.
Choice youths, the bravest, for thy quest provide.
Stout hearts ye need in Italy, for rude
And rough the Latin race, and hard to be subdued.

C. "But seek thou first the nether realms of Dis,
And through Aver