As to his mind, dismiss'd from breast oblivious all thingsErewhile enjoined and held hereto in memory constant,Nor for his saddened sire the gladness-signals uphoistingHeralded safe return within sight of the Erechthean harbour.For 'twas told of yore, when from walls of the Virginal DeessAegeus speeding his son, to the care of breezes committed,Thus with a last embrace to the youth spoke words of commandment:

"Son! far nearer my heart (you alone) than life of the longest,Son, I perforce dismiss to doubtful, dangerous chances,Lately restored to me when eld draws nearest his ending,Since such fortune in me, and in you such boiling of valourTear you away from me so loath, whose eyes in their languorNever are sated with sight of my son, all-dearest of figures.Nor will I send you forth with joy that gladdens my bosom,Nor will I suffer you show boon signs of favouring Fortune,But from my soul I'll first express an issue of sorrow,Soiling my hoary hairs with dust and ashes commingled;Then will I hang stained sails fast-made to the wavering yard-arms,So shall our mourning thought and burning torture of spiritShow by the dark sombre-dye of Iberian canvas spread.But, grant me the grace Who dwells in Sacred Itone,(And our issue to guard and ward the seats of ErechtheusSware She) that if your right is besprent with blood of the Man-Bull,Then do you so-wise act, and stored in memory's heart-coreDwell these mandates of me, no time their traces untracing.