“But yonder far, lo! yonder does appear An isle, a part to me for ever dear; From that (it sailors Perimele name) I doting, forced, by strength, a virgin’s fame. Hippodamas’s passion grew so strong, Gall’d with the abuse, and fretted at the wrong, He cast his pregnant daughter from a rock; I spread my waves beneath and broke the shock; And, as her swimming weight my stream convey’d, I sued for help divine, and thus I pray’d: ‘O powerful thou! whose trident does command The realm of waters, which surround the land; We sacred rivers, wheresoe’er begun, End in thy lot, and to thy empire run; With favour hear, and help with present aid Her whom I bear, ’twas guilty I betray’d. Yet, if her father had been just or mild, He would have been less impious to his child; In her, have pitied force in the abuse; In me, admitted love for my excuse: O let relief for her hard case be found, Her, whom paternal rage expell’d from ground; Her, whom paternal rage relentless drown’d. Grant her some place, or change her to a place Which I may ever clasp with my embrace.’