Book VI, 30

O Amyntichus, his toil on the deep over, bound his lead-weighted net round his fishing spear, and to Poseidon and the salt sea wave said, shedding tears, “Thou knowest, Lord, that I am weary with toil, and now in my evil old age wasting Poverty, from whom there is no release, is in her youthful prime. Feed the old man while he yet breathes, but from the land as he wishes, thou who art Lord over both land and sea.”