Book 8
he would have torn her with his rending beak;—
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he darted towards her through the yielding air.
In terror she let go, but as she fell
the light air held her from the ocean spray;
her feather-weight supported by the breeze;
she spread her wings, and changed into a bird.
They called her “Ciris” when she cut the wind,
and “Ciris”—cut-the-lock—remains her name.
King Minos, when he reached the land of Crete
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and left his ships, remembered he had made
a vow to Jupiter, and offered up
a hundred bulls.—The splendid spoils of war
reproach of Crete had grown, till it exposed
the double-natured shame. So, Minos, moved
to cover his disgrace, resolved to hide
the monster in a prison, and he built
with intricate design, by Daedalus
contrived, an architect of wonderful
ability, and famous. This he planned
of mazey wanderings that deceived the eyes,
and labyrinthic passages involved.
so sports the clear Maeander, in the fields
of Phrygia winding doubtful; back and forth
it meets itself, until the wandering stream
fatigued, impedes its wearied waters' flow;
from source to sea, from sea to source involved.
So Daedalus contrived innumerous paths,
and windings vague, so intricate that he,
the architect, hardly could retrace his steps.
In this the Minotaur was long concealed,
and there devoured Athenian victims sent
three seasons, nine years each, till Theseus, son
of Aegeus, slew him and retraced his way,
finding the path by Ariadne's thread.
Without delay the victor fled from Crete,
together with the loving maid, and sailed
for Dia Isle of Naxos, where he left
the maid forlorn, abandoned. Her, in time,
