Now to Phaeacia’s happy isle they came, For fertile orchards known to early fame; Epirus pass’d, they next beheld with joy A second Ilium, and fictitious Troy; Here Trojan Helenus the sceptre sway’d, Who show’d their fate, and mystic truths display’d; By him confirm’d, Sicilia’s isle they reach’d, Whose sides to sea, three promontories stretch’d; Pachynos to the stormy south is placed, On Lilybaeum blows the gentle west, Peloro’s cliffs the northern Bear survey, Who rolls above, and dreads to touch the sea; By this they steer, and favour’d by the tide, Secure by night in Zancle’s harbour ride.

Here cruel Sylla gains the rocky shore, And there the waves of loud Charybdis roar; This sucks, and vomits ships, and bodies drown’d, And ravenous dogs the womb of that surround; In face a virgin, and (if aught be true By bards recorded) once a virgin too.