Sleek [Panope] with all her sisters played.
It was that fatal and perfidious bark, 100
Built in the eclipse, and rigged with curses dark,
That sunk so low that sacred head of thine.
Next, [Camus], reverend sire, went footing slow,
[His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge],
Inwrought with [figures dim], and on the edge 105
[Like to that sanguine flower inscribed with woe.]
“Ah! who hath reft,” quoth he, “my dearest [pledge]?”
Last came, and last did go,