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After exhaustion shall return again,

We may move shoreward and launch forth with speed.

. I feel unhoped-for gladness when I see

Thy painless gaze, and hear thy living breath,

For thine appearance and surroundings both

Were deathlike. But arise! Or, if thou wilt,

These men shall raise thee. For they will not shrink

From toil which thou and I at once enjoin.

. Right, right, my son! But lift me thine own self,

As I am sure thou meanest. Let these be,

Lest they be burdened with the noisome smell

Before the time. Enough for them to bear

The trouble on board.

. I will; stand up, endure!

. Fear not. Old habit will enable me.

. O me!

What shall I do? Now ’tis my. turn to exclaim!

. What canst thou mean? What change is here, my son?

. I know not how to shift the troublous word.

’Tis hopeless.

. What is hopeless? Speak not so,

Dear child!

. But so my wretched lot hath fallen.

. Ah! Can it be, the offence of my disease

Hath moved thee not to take me now on board?

. All is offence to one who hath forced himself

From the true bent to an unbecoming deed.

. Nought misbecoming to thyself or sire

Doest thou or speak’st, befriending a good man.

. My baseness will appear. That wrings my soul.

. Not in thy deeds. But for thy words, I fear me!

. O Heaven! Must double vileness then be mine

Both shameful silence and most shameful speech?

. Or my discernment is at fault, or thou

Mean’st to betray me and make voyage without me.

. Nay, not without thee, there is my distress!

Lest I convey thee to thy bitter grief.