would reap Large harvests, for the mould is rich below. And there is a safe haven, where no need Of cable is; no anchor there is cast, Nor hawsers fastened to the strand, but they Who enter there remain until it please The mariners, with favorable wind, To put to sea again. A limpid stream Flows from a fount beneath a hollow rock Into that harbor at its further end, And poplars grow around it. Thither went Our fleet; some deity had guided us Through the dark night, for nothing had we seen. Thick was the gloom around our barques; the moon Shone not in heaven, the clouds had quenched her light. No eye discerned the isle, nor the long waves That rolled against the shore, till our good ships Touched land, and, disembarking there, we gave Ourselves to sleep upon the waterside And waited for the holy Morn to rise.
“And when at length the daughter of the Dawn, The rosy-fingered Morn, appeared, we walked Around the isle, admiring as we went.
Meanwhile the nymphs, the daughters of the God Who bears the aegis, roused the mountain goats, That so our crews might make their morning meal.
And straightway from our ships we took in hand Our crooked bows and our long-bladed spears.
“ ‘Let all the rest of my beloved friends Remain, while I, with my own barque and crew, Go forth to learn what race of men are these, Whether ill-mannered, savage, and unjust, Or kind to guests and reverent toward the gods.’ “I spake, and, having ordered all my crew To go on board and cast the hawsers loose, Embarked on my own ship. They all obeyed, And manned the benches, sitting there in rows, And smote the hoary ocean with their oars. But when we came upon that neighboring coast, We saw upon its verge beside the sea A cave high vaulted, overbrowed with shrubs Of laurel.