Redditus orbis erat. Quem postquam vidit inanem
et desolatas agere alta silentia terras,
350Deucalion lacrimis ita Pyrrham adfatur obortis:
“O soror, o coniunx, o femina sola superstes,
quam commune mihi genus et patruelis origo,
deinde torus iunxit, nunc ipsa pericula iungunt,
terrarum, quascumque vident occasus et ortus,
355nos duo turba sumus; possedit cetera pontus.
Haec quoque adhuc vitae non est fiducia nostrae
certa satis; terrent etiam nunc nubila mentem.
Quis tibi, si sine me fatis erepta fuisses,
nunc animus, miseranda, foret? quo sola timorem
360ferre modo posses? quo consolante doleres?
Namque ego (crede mihi) si te quoque pontus haberet,
te sequerer, coniunx, et me quoque pontus haberet.O utinam possim populos reparare paternis
artibus atque animas formatae infundere terrae!
365Nunc genus in nobis restat mortale duobus
(sic visum superis) hominumque exempla manemus.”
The world was restored. But when Deucalion saw its emptiness, and the deep silence of the desolate lands, he spoke to Pyrrha, through welling tears.
‘Wife, cousin, sole surviving woman, joined to me by our shared race, our family origins, then by the marriage bed, and now joined to me in danger, we two are the people of all the countries seen by the setting and the rising sun, the sea took all the rest. Even now our lives are not guaranteed with certainty: the storm clouds still terrify my mind. How would you feel now, poor soul, if the fates had willed you to be saved, but not me? How could you endure your fear alone? Who would comfort your tears? Believe me, dear wife, if the sea had you, I would follow you, and the sea would have me too.
If only I, by my father’s arts, could recreate earth’s peoples, and breathe life into the shaping clay! The human race remains in us. The gods willed it that we are the only examples of mankind left behind.’
He spoke and they wept . . . Kline
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