As pressures gave no rest to his limbs, Aeneas sat astern, guiding the tiller, trimming sail, when suddenly, look—a troop of his comrades comes to meet him, halfway home, the nymphs that kindly Cybebe told to rule the sea in power, changing the ships to sea-nymphs swimming abreast, cutting the waves, 270 as many as all the bronze prows berthed at anchor once.
