wind caught my ship in the AEgean Sea,[54] and dashed it to
pieces, tossed by the mighty blasts; and the waves choked my utterance,
in vain calling upon thy name. It is no untruthful messenger that tells
thee this: thou dost not hear these things through vague rumours.
I, myself, shipwrecked, in person, am telling thee my fate. Come, arise
then, shed tears, and put on mourning; and do not send me unlamented to
the phantom {realms of} Tartarus."

To these words Morpheus adds a voice, which she may believe to be that
of her husband. He seems, too, to be shedding real tears, and his hands
have the gesture of Ceyx. As she weeps, Halcyone groans aloud, and moves
her arms in her sleep, and catching at his body, grasps the air; and she
cries aloud, "Stay, whither dost thou hurry? We will go together."
Disturbed by her own voice, and by the appearance of her husband, she
shakes off sleep; and first she looks about there, to see if he, who has
been so lately seen, is there; for the servants, roused by her voice,
have brought in lights. After she has found him nowhere, she smites her
face with her hands, and tears her garments from off her breast, and
beats her breast itself. Nor cares she to loosen her hair; she tears it,
and says to her nurse, as she inquires what is the occasion of her
sorrow: "Halcyone is no more! no more! with her own Ceyx is she dead.
Away with words of comfort. He has perished by shipwreck. I have seen
him, and I knew him; and as he departed, desirous to detain him,
I extended my hands towards him. The ghost fled: but, yet it was the
undoubted and the real ghost of my husband. It had not, indeed, if thou
askest me {that}, his wonted features; nor was he looking cheerful with
his former countenance. Hapless, I beheld him, pale, and naked, and with
his hair still dripping. Lo! ill-fated {man}, he stood on this very
spot;" and she seeks the prints of his footsteps, if any are left. "This
it was, this is what I dreaded in my ill-boding mind, and I entreated
that thou wouldst not, deserting me, follow the winds. But, I could have
wished, since thou didst depart to perish, that, at least, thou hadst
taken me as well. To have gone with thee, {yes}, with thee, would have
been an advantage to me; for then neither should I have spent any part
of my life otherwise than together with thee, nor would my death have
been divided {from thee}. Now, absent {from thee}, I perish; now,
absent, I am tossed on the waves; and the