Seated among the damp lush water-weeds,
His tresses crowned with crow’s-foot,—“Mark my words,
Thou dalliest with my daughter; what thine aim,
I ask, and crave an answer—great thy line,
The lineage of renowned Laomedon.
Thy sires have wedded goddesses ere now.
But wealthy though the House of Troy may be.
Thy father has a monstrous family,
Daughters and sons as countless as the rills
That Ida sends to be my tributaries.