For what obscured light the heavens did grant Did but convey unto our fearful minds A doubtful warrant of immediate death; Which though myself would gladly have embraced, 70 Yet the incessant weepings of my wife, Weeping before for what she saw must come, And piteous plainings of the pretty babes, That mourn’d for fashion, ignorant what to fear, Forced me to seek delays for them and me. 75 And this it was, for other means was none: The sailors sought for safety by our boat, And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us: My wife, more careful for the latter-born, Had fasten’d him unto a small spare mast, 80 Such as seafaring men provide for storms; To him one of the other twins was bound, Whilst I had been like heedful of the other: The children thus disposed, my wife and I, Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix’d, 85 Fasten’d ourselves at either end the mast; And floating straight, obedient to the stream, Was carried towards Corinth, as we thought. At length the sun, gazing upon the earth, Dispersed those vapours that offended us; 90 And, by the benefit of his wished light, The seas wax’d calm, and we discovered Two ships from far making amain to us, Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this: But ere they came,--O, let me say no more! 95 Gather the sequel by that went before. _Duke._ Nay, forward, old man; do not break off so; For we may pity, though not pardon thee. _Æge._ O, had the gods done so, I had not now Worthily term’d them merciless to us! 100 For, ere the ships could meet by twice five leagues, We were encounter’d by a mighty rock; Which being violently borne upon, Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst; So that, in this unjust divorce of us, 105 Fortune had left to both of us alike What to delight in, what to sorrow for. Her part, poor soul! seeming as burdened With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe, Was carried with more speed before the wind; 110 And in our sight they three were taken up By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. At length, another ship had seized on us; And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, Gave healthful welcome to their shipwreck’d guests; 115 And would have reft the fishers of their prey, Had not their bark been very slow of sail; And therefore homeward did they bend their course. Thus have you heard me sever’d from my bliss; That by misfortunes was my life prolong’d, 120 To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. _Duke._ And, for the sake of them thou sorrowest for, Do me the favour to dilate at full What hath befall’n of them and thee till now.