560
"Th'Argolicke power returning home againe,
Enricht with spoyles of th'Ericthonian towre,
Did happie winde and weather entertaine,
And with good speed the fomie billowes scowre:
No signe of storme, no feare of future paine, 565
Which soone ensued them with heavie stowre*:
Nereis to the seas a token gave,
The whiles their crooked keeles the surges clave.
[* _Stowre_, turmoil, uproar.]
"Suddenly, whether through the gods decree,
Or haplesse rising of some froward starre, 570
The heavens on everie side enclowded bee:
Black stormes and fogs are blowen up from farre,
That now the pylote can no loadstarre see,
But skies and seas doo make most dreadfull warre;
The billowes striving to the heavens to reach, 575
And th'heavens striving them for to impeach*.
[* _Impeach_, hinder.]
"And, in avengement of their bold attempt,
Both sun and starres and all the heavenly powres
Conspire in one to wreake their rash contempt,
And downe on them to fall from highest towres: 580
The skie, in pieces seeming to be rent,
Throwes lightning forth, and haile, and harmful showres,
That death on everie side to them appeares,
In thousand formes, to worke more ghastly feares.
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