Laving your snow-white feet in clearest chrystalline watersOr with its purpling gear your couch in company strewing.Yet for what cause should I complain in vain to the winds that unknow me,(I so beside me with grief!) which ne'er of senses enduedHear not the words sent forth nor aught avail they to answer?Now be his course well-nigh engaged in midway of ocean,Nor any mortal shape appears in barrens of sea-wrack.Thus at the latest hour with insults over-sufficientE'en to my plaints fere Fate begrudges ears that would hear me.Jupiter! Lord of All-might, Oh would in days that are bygoneNe'er had Cecropian poops toucht ground at Gnossian foreshore,