The princely Prœtus opes his gate, And on the fugitive’s dark fate Smiles gracious; him from fear, And terror of the scourge divine, He purifies with blood of swine And sprinkled water clear. O blessed was the calm that now Lulled his racked brain, and smoothed his brow! Nor wildly now did roll His sleepless eyes; from gracious Jove Came down the gentle dew of love That soothed his wounded soul. And grateful was blithe face of man To heart now free from Furies’ ban, And sweet the festive lyre. Fair was each sight that gorgeous day, Spread forth in beautiful array To move the heart’s desire. Each manly sport and social game Thrilled with new joy his re-strung frame, And waked the living fire. Antéa saw him poise the dart, In the fleet race the foremost start, And lawless Venus smote her heart— She loved her lord no more: As no chaste woman sues she sued, Her guest the partial hostess wooed, And lavished beauty’s store Of looks and smiles, and pleading tears, And silvery words; but he reveres The rights of hospitable Jove, Chastely repels her perilous love, Nor hears her parley more. IV.