Her funeral seems full,
though corpseless. Cepheus, in his rightward degree,
devours her tears. And the surrendering flood proposes shipwreck,
mercifully. Ah, sighs her father,
the price of tender limbs. The king is bound for suffering.
She will submit, she repeats, to redemption now.
But hurrying feet shine in the folding waves,
and cruel constellations untangle the sea,
so liberty never leaves maidenhood.
A procession of crags left in possession of her bridal slip.
A shame. The sacrifice time is ruptured. All that follow
are selfish fish shoals.