And pealing shouts the shore of Candia rend:
Success attends their skill! the danger's o'er!
The port is doubled, and beheld no more.
Now morn with gradual pace advanced on high, 720
Whitening with orient beam the twilight sky:
She comes not in refulgent pomp array'd,
But frowning stern, and wrapt in sullen shade.
Above incumbent mists, tall Ida's height,
Tremendous rock! emerges on the sight;
North-east a league, the Isle of Standia bears,
And westward, Freschin's woody Cape appears.
In distant angles while the transient gales
Alternate blow, they trim the flagging sails;
The drowsy air attentive to retain, 730
As from unnumber'd points it sweeps the main.
Now swelling stud-sails [5] on each side extend,
Then stay-sails [6] sidelong to the breeze ascend;
While all to court the veering winds are placed
With yards alternate square, and sharply braced.
The dim horizon lowering vapours shroud,
And blot the sun yet struggling in the cloud;
Through the wide atmosphere, condensed with haze,
His glaring orb emits a sanguine blaze.
The pilots now their azimuth attend, 740
On which all courses duly form'd depend:
The compass placed to catch the rising ray, [7]
The quadrant's shadows studious they survey;
Along the arch the gradual index slides,
While Phoebus down the vertic-circle glides;
Now seen on ocean's utmost verge to swim,