With such thanks, swinging his [Aeolus] spear around he strikes home
at the mountain's hollow flank and out charged the winds
through the breech he made, like armes on attack
in a blasting whirlwind tearing through the earth.
Down they crash on the sea, the Eastwind, Southwind,
all as one with the southwest's squalls in hot pursuit,
heaving up from the ocean depths huge killer-breakers
rolling toward the beaches. The crews are shouting,
cables screeching--suddenly cloudbanks blotting out
the sky, the light of day, from the Trojan's sight
as pitch-black night comes brooding down on the sea
with thunder crashing pole to pole, bolt on bolt
blazing across the heavens--death, everywhere
men facing instant death. (l. 97-110)