'Rise swiftly, child,' the goddess interposed
'Time, I can't command but wield salt-sweet-sway,
so tumbling waves must pay the tithe imposed
by tyrant Tide who will sweep you away.'

Penelope upsurges, doubts washed fresh.
Eyes blaze, mouth curls, limbs lie serene-sedate.
'Your Equivalent will those fools enmesh:
dampen debate and false, spying maids sate 

while you, my latest favourite will escape.
A ship, crew, victuals, wine and condiments
all wants shall be delivered or reshaped
but sail now or face briny consequence.

Overcome, she asks, 'How can I thank thee?
'Live long, love well, cherished Penelope.'