The guardian of the Erymanthian Bear is dipped in the ocean, and with his constellation stirs up the waters of the sea.
Yet we cleave the Ionian sea, not of our own will, but are forced by fear to be daring.
Wretched me! with how great winds the seas swell, and the sand, stirred up from the deepest depths, seethes!
And a wave, no less than a mountain, leaps upon the bow and the curved stern, and strikes the painted gods.
The pine structures groan, the rigging shrieks when struck, and the keel itself groans at our misfortunes.
§1.4.11navita confessus gelidum pallore timorem, §1.4.12iam sequitur victus, non regit arte ratem, §1.4.13utque parum validus non proficientia rector §1.4.14cervicis rigidae frena remittit equo.
The sailor, confessing his cold fear by his paleness, now follows, vanquished, and does not guide the ship with his art, just as a driver, not strong enough, lets go the useless reins to a horse of stiff neck.
Thus, not where he wished, but where the force of the wave sweeps him, I see the charioteer has given the sails to the ship.
And unless Aeolus sends forth changed winds, I shall be carried to places now not to be approached by us.
For far off, with Illyria left on the left side, Italy, forbidden to me, is seen.
Let the wind, I pray, cease to strive toward forbidden lands, and with me let it obey the great god.
While I speak, and equally fear and desire to be driven back, with how great strength the wave has struck the side!
§1.4.25parcite caerulei, vos parcite numina ponti, §1.4.26infestumque mihi sit satis esse Iovem, §1.4.27vos animam saevae fessam subducite morti, §1.4.28si modo, qui periit, non periisse potest.
Spare me, O gods of the blue sea, spare me, and let it be enough for me that Jove is hostile, do you rescue my tired soul from cruel death, if only he who has perished can avoid perishing further.