speculatus litora Tarchon, qua vada non spirant nec fracta remurmurat unda, sed mare inoffensum crescenti adlabitur aestu, advertit subito proram sociosque precatur: nunc, o lecta manus, validis incumbite remis; tollite, ferte rates, inimicam findite rostris hanc terram, sulcumque sibi premat ipsa carina.
Tarchon, marking the shore where the shallows do not heave and the broken billow does not roar, but the sea glides up un-checked with spreading flow, suddenly turns his prow thither and implores his men: Now, chosen band, bend to your stout oars! Raise, drive on your ships; cleave with your beaks this hostile shore, and let the keel herself plough a furrow.