Nor these availed; at length he lights on one, With which so difficult a cause he won:-- My love, so short an absence cease to fear, For, by my father's holy flame I swear, Before two moons their orb with light adorn, If heaven allow me life, I will return.-- This promise of so short a stay prevails; He soon equips the ship, supplies the sails, And gives the word to launch; she trembling views This pomp of death, and parting tears renews; Last, with a kiss, she took a long farewell, Sighed, with a sad presage, and swooning fell. While Ceyx seeks delays, the lusty crew, } Raised on their banks, their oars in order drew } To their broad breasts,--the ship with fury flew. } The queen, recovered, rears her humid eyes, And first her husband on the poop espies, Shaking his hand at distance on the main; She took the sign, and shook her hand again. Still as the ground recedes, retracts her view With sharpened sight, till she no longer knew The much-loved face; that comfort lost, supplies With less, and with the galley feeds her eyes; The galley borne from view by rising gales, She followed with her sight the flying sails; When even the flying sails were seen no more, Forsaken of all sight, she left the shore. Then on her bridal bed her body throws, And sought in sleep her wearied eyes to close; Her husband's pillow, and the widowed part Which once he pressed, renewed the former smart. And now a breeze from shore began to blow; The sailors ship their oars, and cease to row; Then hoist their yards atrip, and all their sails Let fall, to court the wind, and catch the gales. By this the vessel half her course had run, And as much rested till the rising sun; Both shores were lost to sight, when at the close Of day, a stiffer gale at east arose; The sea grew white, the rolling waves from far, Like heralds, first denounce the watery war. This seen, the master soon began to cry, Strike, strike the top-sail; let the main sheet fly, And furl your sails.--The winds repel the sound, And in the speaker's mouth the speech is drowned. Yet of their own accord, as danger taught, Each in his way, officiously they wrought; Some stow their oars, or stop the leaky sides; Another, bolder yet, the yard bestrides, And folds the sails; a fourth, with labour, laves The intruding seas, and waves ejects on waves. In this confusion while their work they ply, The winds augment the winter of the sky, And wage intestine wars; the suffering seas Are tossed, and mingled as their tyrants please. The master would command, but, in despair Of safety, stands amazed with stupid care, Nor what to bid, or what forbid, he knows, The ungoverned tempest to such fury grows; Vain is his force, and vainer is his skill,