Then answer thus her paramour return'd. Wilt thou not hence to Sidon in our ship, That thou may'st once more visit the abode Of thy own wealthy parents, and themselves? For still they live, and still are wealthy deem'd. To whom the woman. Even that might be, Would ye, ye seamen, by a solemn oath Assure me of a safe conveyance home. Then sware the mariners as she required, And, when their oath was ended, thus again 530 The woman of Phœnicia them bespake. Now, silence! no man, henceforth, of you all Accost me, though he meet me on the road, Or at yon fountain; lest some tattler run With tidings home to my old master's ear, Who, with suspicion touch'd, may _me_ confine In cruel bonds, and death contrive for _you_. But be ye close; purchase your stores in haste; And when your vessel shall be freighted full, Quick send me notice, for I mean to bring 540 What gold soever opportune I find, And will my passage cheerfully defray With still another moveable. I nurse The good man's son, an urchin shrewd, of age To scamper at my side; him will I bring, Whom at some foreign market ye shall prove Saleable at what price soe'er ye will. So saying, she to my father's house return'd. They, there abiding the whole year, their ship With purchased goods freighted of ev'ry kind, 550 And when, her lading now complete, she lay For sea prepared, their messenger arrived To summon down the woman to the shore. A mariner of theirs, subtle and shrewd, Then, ent'ring at my father's gate, produced A splendid collar, gold with amber strung. My mother (then at home) with all her maids Handling and gazing on it with delight, Proposed to purchase it, and he the nod Significant, gave unobserv'd, the while, 560 To the Phœnician woman, and return'd. She, thus informed, leading me by the hand Went forth, and finding in the vestibule The cups and tables which my father's guests Had used, (but they were to the forum gone For converse with their friends assembled there) Convey'd three cups into her bosom-folds, And bore them off, whom I a thoughtless child Accompanied, at the decline of day, When dusky evening had embrown'd the shore. 570 We, stepping nimbly on, soon reach'd the port Renown'd, where that Phœnician vessel lay. They shipp'd us both, and all embarking cleav'd Their liquid road, by favourable gales, Jove's gift, impell'd. Six days we day and night Continual sailed, but when Saturnian Jove Now bade the sev'nth bright morn illume the skies, Then, shaft-arm'd Dian struck the woman dead. At once she pitch'd headlong into the bilge Like a sea-coot, whence heaving her again, 580