Of the sea-wave broadly heaving.
And phantoms sway each haunt well known,
Which the lost loved one wont to own,
And the statued forms that look from their seats
With a cold smile serenely,
He loathes to look on; in his eye
Pines Aphrodité[f16] leanly.
ANTISTROPHE II.
In vain he sleeps; for in the fretful night
Shapes of fair seeming