Such was the hapless chance, most beautiful Laodamia,Tare fro' thee dearer than life, dearer than spirit itself,Him, that husband, whose love in so mighty a whirlpool of passionWhelmed thee absorbed and plunged deep in its gulfy abyss,E'en as the Grecians tell hard by Phenéus of CylléneDrained was the marish and dried, forming the fattest of soils,Whenas in days long done to delve through marrow of mountainsDaréd, falsing his sire, Amphtryóniades;