Epigram 5: A sacred shell, Zephyritis divine

A sacred shell, Zephyritis divine,
Fair Selenæa offers at thy shrine,
And thus thy Nautilus is doubly bless’d,
Since given by her, and still by thee possess’d.
Of late small tackling from my body grew;
Thin sails I spread, when winds propitious blew,
But when the seas were calm, to gain the shores
I stretch’d my little feet, like labouring oars,
And, from my busy limbs and painted pride,
Was call’d a Polyp as I stemm’d the tide ;
Till driven by winds, on Coan rocks I shone,
And now recline before Arsinoë’s throne.
Depriv’d of life, no more in seas I rest,
Or draw young Halcyons from the watery nest ;
But be this boon to Clinias’ daughter given,
A virtuous maid and favourite of high heaven ;
The precious boon let Selenæa gain,
When she from Smyrna ploughs the foaming main.