Book 11
and that son, by the gods above was called
708
Icelos—but the inhabitants of earth
called him Phobetor—and a third son, named
Phantasos, cleverly could change himself
into the forms of earth that have no life;
into a statue, water, or a tree.
It was the habit of these three to show
themselves at night to kings and generals;
and other sons would frequently appear
among the people of the common class.
All such the aged god of Sleep passed by.
Selecting only Morpheus from among
the many brothers to accomplish this,
and execute what Iris had desired.
And after all that work, he dropped his head,
and sank again in languid drowsiness,
shrinking to sloth within his lofty couch.
Morpheus at once flew through the night
of darkness, on his wings that make no sound,
and in brief space of intervening time,
arrived at the Haemonian city walls;
and there he laid aside his wings, and took
the face and form of Ceyx. In that form
as one deprived of life, devoid of clothes,
wan and ghastly, he stood beside the bed
of the sad wife. The hero's beard seemed dripping,
sea water streamed down from his drenching hair.
Then leaning on the bed, while dropping tears
were running down his cheeks, he said these words:
“Most wretched wife, can you still recognize
your own loved Ceyx, or have my looks changed:
so much with death you can not?—Look at me,
and you will be assured I am your own:
but here instead of your dear husband, you
will find only his ghost. Your faithful prayers
did not avail, Halcyone, and I
have perished. Give up all deluding hopes
of my return. The stormy Southwind caught
my ship while sailing the Aegean sea;
and there, tossed by the mighty wind, my ship
