P. Ovidius Naso, Metamorphoses
Arthur Golding, Ed.

In this meane tyme the Trachine king sore vexed in his thought
With signes that both before and since his brothers death were wrought,
For counsell at the sacret Spelles (which are but toyes to foode
Fond fancyes, and not counsellers in perill to doo goode)
Did make him reedy to the God of Claros for to go.
For heathenish Phorbas and the folk of Phlegia had as tho
The way to Delphos stopt, that none could travell to or fro.
But ere he on his journey went, he made his faythfull make
Alcyone preevye to the thing. Immediatly theyr strake
A chilnesse to her verry bones, and pale was all her face
Like box and downe her heavy cheekes the teares did gush apace.
Three times about to speake, three times shee washt her face with teares,
And stinting oft with sobbes, shee thus complayned in his eares:
What fault of myne, husband deere, hath turnd thy hart fro mee?
Where is that care of mee that erst was woont to bee in thee?
And canst thou having left thy deere Alcyone merrye bee?
Doo journeyes long delyght thee now? dooth now myne absence please
Thee better then my presence dooth? Think I that thou at ease
Shalt go by land? Shall I have cause but onely for to moorne?
And not to bee afrayd? And shall my care of thy returne
Bee voyd of feare? No no. The sea mee sore afrayd dooth make.
To think uppon the sea dooth cause my flesh for feare to quake.
I sawe the broken ribbes of shippes alate uppon the shore.
And oft on Tumbes I reade theyr names whose bodyes long before
The sea had swallowed. Let not fond vayne hope seduce thy mynd,
That Aeolus is thy fathrinlaw who holdes the boystous wynd
In prison, and can calme the seas at pleasure. When the wynds
Are once let looce uppon the sea, no order then them bynds.
Then neyther land hathe priviledge, nor sea exemption fynds.
Yea even the clowdes of heaven they vex, and with theyr meeting stout
Enforce the fyre with hideous noyse to brust in flashes out.
The more that I doo know them, (for ryght well I know theyr powre,
And saw them oft a little wench within my fathers bowre)
So much the more I think them to bee feard. But if thy will
By no intreatance may bee turnd at home to tarry still,
But that thou needes wilt go: then mee, deere husband, with thee take.
So shall the sea us equally togither tosse and shake.
So woorser than I feele I shall bee certeine not to feare.
So shall we whatsoever happes togitherjoyntly beare.
So shall wee on the broad mayne sea togither joyntly sayle.
Theis woordes and teares wherewith the imp of Aeolus did assayle
Her husbond borne of heavenly race, did make his hart relent.
(For he lovd her no lesse than shee lovd him.) But fully bent
He seemed, neyther for to leave the journey which he ment
To take by sea, nor yit to give Alcyone leave as tho
Companion of his perlous course by water for to go.
He many woordes of comfort spake her feare away to chace.
But nought hee could perswade therein to make her like the cace.
This last asswagement of her greef he added in the end,
Which was the onely thing that made her loving hart to bend:
All taryance will assuredly seeme over long to mee.
And by my fathers blasing beames I make my vow to thee
That at the furthest ere the tyme (if God therto agree)
The moone doo fill her circle twyce, ageine I will heere bee.
When in sum hope of his returne this promis had her set,
He willd a shippe immediatly from harbrough to bee fet,
And throughly rigged for to bee, that neyther maast, nor sayle,
Nor tackling, no nor other thing should apperteyning fayle.
Which when Alcyone did behold, as one whoose hart misgave
The happes at hand, shee quaakt ageine, and teares out gusshing drave.
And streyning Ceyx in her armes with pale and piteous looke,
Poore wretched soule, her last farewell at length shee sadly tooke,
And swounded flat uppon the ground. Anon the watermen
(As Ceyx sought delayes and was in dowt to turne agen)
Set hand to Ores, of which there were two rowes on eyther syde,
And all at once with equall stroke the swelling sea devyde.
Shee lifting up her watrye eyes behilld her husband stand
Uppon the hatches making signes by beckening with his hand:
And shee made signes to him ageine. And after that the land
Was farre removed from the shippe, and that the sight began
To bee unable to discerne the face of any man,
As long as ere shee could shee lookt uppon the rowing keele.
And when shee could no longer tyme for distance ken it weele,
Shee looked still uppon the sayles that flasked with the wynd
Uppon the maast. And when shee could the sayles no longer fynd,
She gate her to her empty bed with sad and sorye hart,
And layd her downe. The chamber did renew afresh her smart,
And of her bed did bring to mynd the deere departed part.
From harbrough now they quyght were gone: and now a plasant gale
Did blowe. The mayster made his men theyr Ores asyde to hale,
And hoysed up the toppesayle on the hyghest of the maast,
And clapt on all his other sayles bycause no wind should waast.
Scarce full t'one half, (or sure not much above) the shippe had ronne
Uppon the sea and every way the land did farre them shonne,
When toward night the wallowing waves began to waxen whyght,
And eeke the heady easterne wynd did blow with greater myght,
Anon the Mayster cryed: Strike the toppesayle, let the mayne
Sheate flye and fardle it to the yard. Thus spake he, but in vayne,
For why so hideous was the storme uppon the soodeine brayd,
That not a man was able there to heere what other sayd.
And lowd the sea with meeting waves extreemely raging rores.
Yit fell they to it of them selves. Sum haalde asyde the Ores:
Sum fensed in the Gallyes sydes, sum downe the sayleclothes rend:
Sum pump the water out, and sea to sea ageine doo send.
Another hales the sayleyards downe. And whyle they did eche thing
Disorderly, the storme increast, and from eche quarter fling
The wyndes with deadly foode, and bownce the raging waves togither.
The Pilot being sore dismayd sayth playne, he knowes not whither
To wend himself, nor what to doo or bid, nor in what state
Things stood. So huge the mischeef was, and did so overmate
All arte. For why of ratling ropes, of crying men and boyes,
Of flusshing waves and thundring ayre, confused was the noyse.
The surges mounting up aloft did seeme to mate the skye,
And with theyr sprinckling for to wet the clowdes that hang on hye.
One whyle the sea, when iirom the brink it raysd the yellow sand,
Was like in colour to the same. Another whyle did stand
A colour on it blacker than the Lake of Styx. Anon
It lyeth playne and loomethwhyght with seething froth thereon.