Which when Deucalion, with a piteous look, Beheld, he wept, and thus to Pyrrha spoke: “O wife! O sister! O of all thy kind The best, and only creature left behind, By kindred, love, and now by dangers join’d; Of multitudes, who breathed the common air, We two remain; a species in a pair: The rest the seas have swallow’d; nor have we Ev’n of this wretched life a certainty. The clouds are still above; and while I speak, A second deluge o’er our heads may break. Should I be snatch’d from hence, and thou remain, Without relief, or partner of thy pain, How couldst thou such a wretched life sustain? Should I be left, and thou be lost, the sea That buried her I loved, should bury me. O could our father his old arts inspire, And make me heir of his informing fire, That so I might abolish’d man retrieve, And perish’d people in new souls might live! But Heaven is pleased, nor ought we to complain, That we, the examples of mankind, remain.” He said: the careful couple join their tears, And then invoke the gods, with pious prayers.