“I view’d him nicely, and began to trace Each heavenly frature, each immortal grace, And saw divinity in all his face: ‘I know not who,’ said I, ‘this god should be, But that he is a god I plainly see. And thou, whoe’er thou art, excuse the force These men have used; and O befriend our course!’ ‘Pray not for us,’ the nimble Dictys cried, Dictys, that could the main-topmast bestride, And down the ropes with active vigour slide. To the same purpose old Epopeus spoke, Who overlook’d the oars, and timed the stroke: The same the pilot, and the same the rest, Such impious avarice their souls possess’d. ‘Nay, Heaven forbid that I should bear away Within my vessel so divine a prey,’ Said I; and stood to hinder their intent, When Lycabas, a wretch for murder sent From Tuscany, to suffer banishment, With his clinch’d fist had struck me overboard, Had not my hands in falling grasp’d a cord.