"All the crew besides being now stretched on the ground, Theagenes was left closely engaged in fight with Pelorus, an antagonist of tried courage, exercised in many a scene of bloodshed. Chariclea could now no longer assist him with her shafts, she dreaded lest in this hand-to-hand engagement, she might wound her lover instead of his antagonist. The event of the fight was for some time doubtful; at length Pelorus began to give way. Chariclea, deprived of all other means of assisting him, encouraged him with her voice. 'Be strong,' she cried out, 'be of good cheer, take courage, my life!'
"Her words inspired her lover with fresh spirit and resolution: they reminded him, that she, the prize of victory, still lived. Regardless of several wounds which he had received, he now made a desperate effort, rushed upon Pelorus, and aimed a fearful sword-cut at his head; a sudden swerve occasioned him to miss his blow, but his blade descended on his enemy's shoulder, and lopped off his arm above the elbow. The barbarian now had recourse to flight; Theagenes pursued him. What followed I am not able to relate—he came back without my perceiving it. I still remained on the eminence to which I had retired, not daring, in the night time, to proceed any farther in a hostile country. But he had not escaped the eye of Chariclea. I saw him at break of day lying, in a manner, dead; she sitting by, lamenting, and ready to kill herself upon him, but restrained by a glimmering of hope that he might still survive. I, thunderstruck at the suddenness with which our misfortunes by land had succeeded those by sea, was not able to speak. I could neither inquire into the particulars of the situation in which he had returned, nor attempt to comfort her, nor relieve him.
"At break of day, after I had descended from my eminence, I saw a band of Egyptian pirates coming down from a mountain which overlooked the sea.[27] In a twinkling they had seized, and were carrying off, the youthful pair, together with what plunder they could take with them from the ship. I followed them at a distance, lamenting my own, and my children's misfortunes, unable to succour them, and thinking it best not to join them; cherishing some faint hope of future assistance. But I soon felt my own unfitness for the task, being left far behind by the Egyptians, and unable to follow them through steep and rugged roads. Since that time, until the recovery of my daughter, by the favour of the gods, and your goodness, Ο Nausicles, my days have passed in sorrow and tears."
Having said this, he wept. All who heard him wept with him; and a lamentation, not wholly unmixed with pleasure, pervaded the whole company. Tears readily flow when the head is warm with wine. At length Nausicles applied himself to comfort Calasiris.
"Father," said he, "be of good cheer, you have already recovered your daughter, and this night alone divides you from the presence of your son. To-morrow we will wait upon Mithranes, and do all in our power to ransom and free Theagenes."—"No wish is nearer to my heart," replied Calasiris, "but it is now time to break up our entertainment: let us remember the gods, and join with our libations, thanksgiving for my child's deliverance." Upon this the vases for libation were carried round, and the company dispersed.
Calasiris looked about for Chariclea; and having long watched the crowd as they came out, and not seeing her, at length he inquired for her of one of the women, and by her information went into the temple, where he found her fallen into a deep sleep, embracing the feet of the image of the deity, wearied by long prayer, and exhausted by grief. He dropped a tear over her, breathed out a petition for her happiness, and, gently waking her, conducted her to his lodging, blushing at her imprudence, in having suffered herself to be surprised by sleep in such a place. Here, in her chamber, with the daughter of Nausicles, she laid herself down to rest, but wakefulness compelled her to ruminate upon her sorrows.
[1] οἷον προσεγέλα τῆ πρύμνη.
"There, mildly dimpling, ocean's cheek
Reflects the tints of many a peak
Caught by the laughing tides that lave
These Edens of the eastern wave."—Byron.
".... ποντίων τὲ κυμάτων
ἀνήριθμον γελασμα."—Æsch. P.V. 90.