Here Daedalus, the ancient story tells,Escaping Minos' power, and having madeHazard of heaven on far-mounting wings,Floated to northward, a cold, trackless way,And lightly poised, at last, o'er Cumae's towers.Here first to earth come down, he gave to theeHis gear of wings, Apollo! and ordainedVast temples to thy name and altars fair.On huge bronze doors Androgeos' death was done;And Cecrops' children paid their debt of woe,Where, seven and seven,—0 pitiable sight!—The youths and maidens wait the annual doom,Drawn out by lot from yonder marble urn.Beyond, above a sea, lay carven Crete:—The bull was there; the passion, the strange guile;And Queen Pasiphae's brute-human son,The Minotaur—of monstrous loves the sign.Here was the toilsome, labyrinthine maze,Where, pitying love-lorn Ariadne's tears,The crafty Daedalus himself betrayedThe secret of his work; and gave the clueTo guide the path of Theseus through the gloom.0 Icarus, in such well-graven sceneHow proud thy place should be! but grief forbade:Twice in pure gold a father's fingers stroveTo shape thy fall, and twice they strove in vain.Aeneas long the various work would scan;But now Achates comes, and by his sideDeiphobe, the Sibyl, Glaucus' child.Thus to the prince she spoke :“Is this thine hourTo stand and wonder? Rather go obtainFrom young unbroken herd the bullocks seven,And seven yearling ewes, our wonted way.”Thus to Aeneas; his attendants hasteTo work her will; the priestess, calling loud,Gathers the Trojans to her mountain-shrine.