“Yea, thy mother was her old self, and urged me to again plead with the king and people for help. Our hopes proved in reason, for they agreed to lend us a few vessels. Then friends gathered about us to do the rest. And I built the boat in which I came hither.
“Thus, after years of dread waiting, thy mother and I, with these dear friends, sailed for the Great Rock that riseth where the Middle Sea joineth the ocean. There, under its shadow, I left them. And, as a priest of Poseidon, came to these Atlanteans.
“Ah, Hellen, that day I knew thee, even as my foot pressed the sands. Hard was it to keep from flinging myself upon thee in thy strong young grace and pure look. Hellen, my dear son, all I had borne was as naught when I beheld thee. How it was that I ran not to thee to cry, ‘Hellen, here is thy father!’ I know not. So strong was my yearning.”
“And, father, what were my feelings. Thy grand looks seemed beyond earth. Ah, how thou didst draw me! Though, after that, was I willing to think of thee evil.”
“It was nature working in thee.”
“But—how these Atlanteans have bent, yielded to thee.”
“They fear the gods now that they have become wicked, and dare not make light of my warnings. Though Atlano and Oltis hate me, and would harm me if they dared. How often, by my signs, have I chided them, and made them cease their evil. Upon their fears am I working that I may free thyself and Æole. Oh, most wretched people!”
He had arisen. And raised his eyes as if imploring heaven’s mercy.
“But—Sensel—who is he, father?”
Deucalion sat down again, and whispered: