Under that form, but pale like a dead man, naked, he
stood before the couch of the wretched wife. His beard seemed
soaked with water, and water trickled from his drowned locks.
Leaning over the bed, tears streaming from his eyes, he said, "Do
you recognize your Ceyx, unhappy wife, or has death too much
changed my visage? Behold me, know me, your husband's shade,
instead of himself. Your prayers, Halcyone, availed me nothing. I
am dead. No more deceive yourself with vain hopes of my return.
The stormy winds sunk my ship in the Aegean Sea, waves filled my
mouth while it called aloud on you. No uncertain messenger tells
you this, no vague rumor brings it to your ears. I come in person,
a shipwrecked man, to tell you my fate. Arise! give me tears, give
me lamentations, let me not go down to Tartarus unwept." To these
words Morpheus added the voice, which seemed to be that of her
husband; he seemed to pour forth genuine tears; his hands had the
gestures of Ceyx.
Halcyone, weeping, groaned, and stretched out her arms in her
sleep, striving to embrace his body, but grasping only the air.
"Stay!" she cried; "whither do you fly? let us go together." Her
own voice awakened her. Starting up, she gazed eagerly around, to
see if he was still present, for the servants, alarmed by her
cries, had brought a light.
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