As beautiful and clear as the amber waves
Of rich Pactolus, rolled o'er sands of gold,270
Softened by intervening crystal, and
Rippled like flowing waters by the wind,
All vowed to Sperchius[218] as they were—behold them!
And him—as he stood by Polixena,
With sanctioned and with softened love, before
The altar, gazing on his Trojan bride,
With some remorse within for Hector slain
And Priam weeping, mingled with deep passion