Round the virgin sisters twain
Soon shall fall the crowded slain,
Theseus soon in mailèd might
Wake the terrors of the fight.
Now I ween in haste they glide
Œa's snowy rocks beside;
There beneath the western sky,
Swift their straining coursers fly;
Rapid roll their whirling cars;
Fleeter speeds pursuing Mars;
Theseus' train is on its way,
Keen to grasp the destined prey;
Every bit like lightning glancing,
Every mailèd knight advancing,
Every charger's arching neck
Princely spoils and trappings deck,
Yours the vow for victory won,
Hippian Pallas! Rhea's son!
Thou who, throned in coral caves,
Claspest earth, and rulest waves!
Is the awful stillness past?
Have they closed in fight at last?
Answer, my prophetic soul!
Thou canst secret fate unroll.
Soon I ween shall warrior sword,
Wielded by Athena's lord,
Free the maid by sorrow bowed,
Mocked and scorned by brethren proud:
So across my spirit's dreams
Joy anticipated gleams.
Might I, like the soaring dove,
Roam the aerial fields above,
Her who borne on tempest wings
