tchy darkness, and the face of the night is redoubled {in gloom}. The
mast is broken by the violence of the drenching tempest; the helm, too,
is broken; and the undaunted wave, standing over its spoil, looks down
like a conqueror, upon the waves as they encircle {below}. Nor, when
precipitated, does it rush down less violently, than if any {God} were
to hurl Athos or Pindus, torn up from its foundations, into the open
sea; and with its weight and its violence together, it sinks the ship to
the bottom. With her, a great part of the crew overwhelmed in the deep
water, and not rising again to the air, meet their fate. Some seize hold
of portions and broken pieces of the ship. Ceyx himself seizes a
fragment of the wreck, with that hand with which he was wont {to wield}
the sceptre, and in vain, alas! he invokes his father, and his
father-in-law. But chiefly on his lips, as he swims, is his wife
Halcyone. Her he thinks of, and {her name} he repeats: he prays the
waves to impel his body before her eyes; and that when dead he may be
entombed by the hands of his friends. While he {still} swims, he calls
upon Halcyone far away, as often as the billows allow[44] him to open
his mouth, and in the very waves he murmurs {her name}. {When}, lo!
a darkening arch[45] of waters breaks over the middle of the waves, and
buries his head sinking beneath the bursting billow. Lucifer was
obscured that night, and such that you could not have recognized him;
and since he was not allowed to depart from the heavens,[46] he
concealed his face beneath thick clouds.

In the meantime, the daughter of AEolus, ignorant of so great
misfortunes, reckons the nights; and now she hastens {to prepare} the
garments[47] for him to put on, and now, those which, when he comes, she
herself may wear, and vainly promises herself his return. She, indeed,
piously offers frankincense to all the Gods above; but, before all, she
pays her adorations at the temple of Juno, and comes to the altars on
behalf of her husband, who is not in existence. And she prays that her
husband may be safe, and that he may return, and may prefer no woman
before her. But this {last} alone can be her lot, out of so many of her
wishes. But the Goddess endures not any longer to be supplicated on
behalf of one who is dead; and, that she may repel her polluted
hands[48] from the altars,--she says, "Iris, most faithful messenger of
my words, hasten quickly to the soporiferous court of Sleep, and c