xxvn WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE 147 



greater part of the torrents detained by their 

 narrow mouth recoil in pools, reducing the fields to 

 the aspect of a continuous lake. Now everything, 

 far as the eye can reach, is a waste of waters. 

 Every hill is hidden in the abyss, everywhere is n 

 fathomless depth of water. Only in the highest 

 mountain tops are there shallows. To these 

 heights men have fled with wives and children, 

 and have driven up their cattle. All intercourse 

 and communication have been cut off among the 

 wretched survivors; for all the lower ground has 

 been filled by the waves. The remnants of the 

 human race cling to every lofty peak. Brought 

 to the last shift, they have this one solace, that 

 apprehension has passed into stupor. Astonishment 

 so fills them that there is no room for fear. Even 12 

 grief finds no place ; for it loses its force in one 

 whose wretchedness has passed beyond perception 

 of suffering. So there are only mountain tops that 

 appear like islands above the water, and increase the 

 number of the scattered Cyclades, as that accom 

 plished poet finely says ; with an exaltation of lan 

 guage too in keeping with his theme, he exclaims : 



All was sea ; to the sea there was no shore. 



It is a pity he reduced that burst of genius and his 

 splendid subject to childish twaddle by adding : 



The wolf has to swim among the sheep, the wave carries tawny 

 lions. 



There is too little seriousness in making sport in 13 

 this way when the earth has been swallowed up. 

 He expressed a fine thought and caught a vivid 

 picture of the utter confusion when he said : 



Through the open plains the rivers wander at their will, 

 . . . The towers totter and sink beneath the flood. 



