A sacred shell Zephyritis divine,
Fair Selenæa offers at thy shrine,
And thus thy Nautilus is doubly bless'd,
Since giv'n by her, and still by thee possess'd.
Of late small tackling from my body grew;
Thin fails I spread, when winds propitious blew,
But when the seas were calm, to gain the shores,
I stretch'd my little feet, like lab'ring oars,
And, from my busy limbs and painted pride,
Was call'd a Polyp as I stem'd the tide;
Till driv'n 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 wat'ry nest;
But be this boon to Clinia's daughter giv'n,
A virtuous maid and fav'rite of high heav'n;
The precious boon let Selenæa gain,
When she from Smyrna ploughs the foaming main.
