Turned she, before fierce flame in all her body conceived sheDown in its deepest depths and burning within her marrow.Ah, with unmitigate heart exciting wretchedmost furies,You, Boy sacrosanct! man's grief and gladness commingling,You too of Golgos Queen and Lady of leafy Idalium,Whelm'd you in what manner waves that maiden fantasy-fired,All for a blond-haired youth suspiring many a singulf!Whiles how dire was the dread she dreed in languishing heart-strings;How yet more, ever more, with golden splendour she paled!Whenas yearning to mate his might with the furious monsterTheseus braved his death or sought the prizes of praises.Then of her gifts to gods not ingrate, nor profiting naught,Promise with silent lip, addressed she timidly vowing.For as an oak that shakes on topmost summit of TaurusIts boughs, or cone-growing pine from bole bark resin exuding,Whirlwind of passing might that twists the stems with its storm-blasts,Uproots, deracinates, forthright its trunk to the farthest,Prone falls, shattering wide what lies in line of its downfall,—Thus was that wildling flung by Theseus and vanquisht of body,