Go, set the storm-winds free, / and sink their ships or scatter them astray, / and strew their corpses forth, to weltering waves a prey."

At his heels, aflame / with rage, comes Pyrrhus. Lo, in act to aim, / now, now, he clutches him, – a moment more, / e'en as before his parent's eyes he came, / the long spear reached him. Prostrate on the floor / down falls the hapless youth, and welters in his gore.

Such close had Priam's fortunes; so his days / were finished, such the bitter end he found, / now doomed by Fate with dying eyes to gaze / on Troy in flames and ruin all around, / and Pergamus laid level with the ground. / Lo, he to whom once Asia bowed the knee, / proud lord of many peoples, far-renowned, / now left to welter by the rolling sea, / a huge and headless trunk, a nameless corpse is he.

Without a word, he had disappeared into the welter of the noonday crowd.

The creaking of the masts; the straining and groaning of bulkheads, as the ship labored in the weltering sea, were frightful.

Winds roll the waters, and the great seas rise. / Dispersed we welter on the gulfs. Damp night / has snatched with rain the heaven from our eyes, / and storm-mists in a mantle wrapt the light. / Flash after flash, and for a moment bright, / quick lightnings rend the welkin. Driven astray / we wander, robbed of reckoning, reft of sight. / No difference now between the night and day / e'en Palinurus sees, nor recollects the way.