Deeming her harried by the charms Of Thessaly. But for thee alone Was all her toil; thou wast the cause Of her long delay; for, seeing thee, The night's fair goddess checked her course. If only winter's blasts would beat 795 Less fiercely on that face of thine; If less it felt the sun's hot rays, More bright than Parian marble's gleam Would it appear. How beautiful The manly sternness in thy face, Thy brow's dark frowning majesty! Compare with Phoebus' that fair neck. 800 His hair o'er his shoulders flowing free, Unbound by fillet, ornaments And shelters him. A shaggy brow Becomes thee best; thee, shorter locks, In tossing disarray. 'Tis thine The rough and warlike gods to meet 805 In strife, and by thy mighty strength To overcome them. Even now, The muscles of a Hercules Thy youthful arms can match. Thy breast Is broader than the breast of Mars. If on a horny-footed steed Thou'rt pleased to mount, not Castor's self 810 More easily could hold in check The Spartan Cyllarus. Take thong in hand; with all thy strength Discharge the javelin: not so far, Though they be trained to hurl the dart, Will Cretans send the slender reed. 815 Or if it please thee into air, In Parthian style, to shoot thy darts, None will descend without its bird, Fixed deep within the throbbing breast; From out the very clouds thy prey Thou wilt regain. By few has beauty been possessed (The voice of history proclaims) 820 Without some loss or suffering. But thee, unharmed, may God pass by More merciful, and may thy form, Now famous for its beauty, show At last the marks of ugly age. What crime would woman's fury leave undared? She plans against this harmless youth some fraud. 825 Behold her scheme! For by her tumbled hair, All torn, she seeks sure credence for her tale. She wets her cheeks with tears; and every art That woman's shrewdness knows, does she employ. [_A man is seen approaching, who proves to be_ Theseus.] But who is that who comes with grace of kings Displayed upon his face, his lofty head 830 Held high in kingly pride? In countenance, How like the young Pirithoüs he seems, Were not his cheeks too deadly pale and wan, And if his hair fell not in locks unkempt. Behold, 'tis Theseus' self returned to earth. FOOTNOTES: [20] Reading, _luxus_. [21] Reading, _dixit_. ACT III