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In the dim distance from amidst the sea-weed, the daughter of Minos with sorrowful eyes, like a stone-carved Bacchante, gazes afar, alas! gazes after him, heaving with great waves of grief. No longer does the fragile fillet bind her yellow locks, no more with light veil is her hidden bosom covered,
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no more with rounded zone the milky breasts are clasped; fallen down from her body everything is scattered here and there, and the salt waves toy with them in front of her very feet. But neither on fillet nor floating veil, but on you, Theseus,
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in their stead, was she musing: on you she bent her heart, her thoughts, her love-lorn mind. Ah, woeful one, with sorrows unending distraught, Erycina sows thorny cares deep in your bosom, since that time when Theseus fierce in his vigor set out from the curved bay of Piraeus,
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and gained the Gortynian roofs of the iniquitous ruler. For it is said that once, constrained by the cruelest plague to expiate the slaughter of Androgeos, Cecropia used to give both chosen youths and the pick of the unmarried maidens as a feast to the Minotaur.
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When thus his strait walls with ills were vexed, Theseus with free will preferred to yield up his body for adored Athens rather than such Cecropian corpses be carried to Crete unobsequied. And therefore borne in a speedy craft by favouring breezes,
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he came to the imperious Minos and his superb seat. Instantly with longing glance the royal virgin saw him, she whom the chaste couch breathing out sweetest of scents cradled in her mother’s tender enfoldings, like the myrtle which the rivers of Eurotas produce,
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