Two from Woodward's 'Tales of Sea-Sorrow'

 Dipping back into Woodward, I learned a new word that I do not expect to be allowed in Scrabble. These two quite lovely versions from the Anthology's epitaphic seventh book appear on p.41 of Tales of Sea-Sorrow (1931) and are what you might expect from the title.

As in previous posts, I have replaced the long 's's that moft modern readers would otherwife find abfurd and diftreffing, but otherwise do not meddle with the translator's archaising charm. The more I dip into Woodward, the more I find to enjoy and admire.

ANTIPATER OF SIDON: VII.639

Every where the sea's the sea.
Why to Hellè straits give we,
Or to Cycladés, ill name?
Why the Needles idly blame?
They deserve no evil fame.
Safely past these spots I came,
Doom'd to meet, in sorry sort,
Death at Skarphè, when in port.
Proy who will, 'Fair passage home,'
After all, the foam's the foam,
As declareth, nigh the wave,
Aristagoras his grave.

ISIDORE: VII.532

Eteókles is my title:
Sea-born hopes from off my pightle
Drew me for to try my hand
Trafficking in foreign land.
So I trod on ridge and back
Of the Tyrrhene salt-way track,
Until ship and man were drown'd,
Overwhelm'd by wave profound,
Feeling full brunt of the blast.
No man may the twain contrast:
Airs, that winnnow chaff from wheat;
Airs, that blow on canvas-sheet.