course. And now dewy Night had reached its mid-goal in heaven; the sailors, stretched in quiet rest; when Sleep, sliding lightly down from the stars of heaven, parted the dusky air and cleft the gloom, seeking you, Palinurus, and bringing you baleful dreams, guiltless one!

There on the high stern sat the god, in semblance of Phorbas, and pours these accents from his lips: “Palinurus, son of Iasus, the seas of themselves bear on the fleet; the breezes breathe steadily; the hour is given to rest. Lay down you head and steal your weary eyes from toil. I myself for a space will take your duty in your stead.” To him, scarce lifting his eyes, speaks Palinurus: “Me do you bid shut my eyes to the sea’s calm face and peaceful waves? Me put faith in this monster? And Aeneas – why, indeed, am I to trust