Aeneas

The war is lost. Now send me out to sea,
let me be struck by darkling thunderstorms,
let raging black abysses swallow me,
let me be torn apart by Harpy-swarms.

Thy will be done. May no one guide my path
through nameless dangers, none deadly as thee.
Be my destruction, be thou Hera’s wrath,
and never let me find my Italy!