Tossed on a black and troubled sea
The wind blew fiercely on the ark;note
Lone-drifting in her prison-barque,
Awe chilled the blood of Danaë.

Her pale cheek stained with trickling tears,
In closer clasp she pressed her son,
And said: “Alas! my darling one,
My heart is mastered by its fears.

“And yet thou slumberest sweetly there,
Because it is thy mother's breast;
In cheerless brass-bound dungeon blest
With sleep unshadowed by a care!

“Around us spreads the awful night,
Save when the silvery moonlight streams
Upon the waves in flickering gleams,
And sprinkles our sad cell with light.

  ― 191 ―
“The seething water rushes by,
Hoarse o'er the sea the cold winds rave;
But what to thee are blast and wave?
Thy clustering ringlets still are dry!

“Wrapt in thy little purple cloak,
Thou sleepest with that calm, bright face!
Could sorrow in thy heart find place,
Thou to my moans hadst, sure, awoke!

“But sleep; I bid thee, sleep, my child;
And sleep thou, too, wide weltering sea!
Sleep, too, the woes of Danaë—
Bouudless as ocean billows wild!

“O, Father Zeus! confound my foes,
And grant of thy great clemency
(Bold as thy servant's prayer may be)
My Perseus may avenge my woes?”