675But the race of the Cyclopes, roused from the woods and high mountains, rushes to the harbour, and they crowd the shore. 677We see the Etnean brothers standing there in vain with glaring eye, bearing their lofty heads to the sky, a dreadful assembly: just as when on a high summit airy oaks or cone-bearing cypresses stand together, a tall forest of Jupiter or a grove of Diana. 682Sharp fear drives us headlong to shake out the sheets in any direction and spread our sails to favouring winds. 684On the other hand, Helenus' commands warn the crews not to hold their course between Scylla and Charybdis, either way a road within a hair's breadth of death; 686we resolve to turn our sails back.
687But look, Boreas is here, sent from the narrow seat of Pelorus. 688I sail past the mouths of the Pantagias, set in living rock, and the bay of Megara and low-lying Thapsus. 690Such places Achaemenides pointed out, retracing in reverse the shores he had wandered; 691the companion of unlucky Ulysses.