ss's city, these
commands he gave to the youth with his parting embrace.

"O mine only son, far dearer to me than long life, lately restored to me at
extreme end of my years, O son whom I must perforce dismiss to a doubtful
hazard, since my ill fate and thine ardent valour snatch thee from
unwilling me, whose dim eyes are not yet sated with my son's dear form: nor
gladly and with joyous breast do I send thee, nor will I suffer thee to
bear signs of helpful fortune, but first from my breast many a plaint will
I express, sullying my grey hairs with dust and ashes, and then will I hang
dusky sails to the swaying mast, so that our sorrow and burning lowe are
shewn by Iberian canvas, rustily darkened. Yet if the dweller on holy
Itone, who deigns defend our race and Erectheus' dwellings, grant thee to
besprinkle thy right hand in the bull's blood, then see that in very truth
these commandments deep-stored in thine heart's memory do flourish, nor any
time deface them. Instant thine eyes shall see our cliffs, lower their
gloomy clothing from every yard, and let the twisted cordage bear aloft
snowy sails, where splendent shall shine bright topmast spars, so that,
instant discerned, I may know with gladness and lightness of heart that in
prosperous hour thou art returned to my face."

These charges, at first held in constant mind, from Theseus slipped away as
clouds are impelled by the breath of the winds from the ethereal peak of a
snow-clad mount. But his father as he betook himself to the castle's
turrets as watchplace, dimming his anxious eyes with continual weeping,
when first he spied the discoloured canvas, flung himself headlong from the
top of the crags, deeming Theseus lost by harsh fate. Thus as he entered
the grief-stricken house, his paternal roof, Theseus savage with slaughter
met with like grief as that which with unmemoried mind he had dealt to
Minos' daughter: while she with grieving gaze at his disappearing keel,
turned over a tumult of cares in her wounded spirit.

But on another part [of the tapestry] swift hastened the flushed Iacchus
with his train of Satyrs and Nisa-begot Sileni, thee questing, Ariadne, and
aflame with love for thee. * * * * These scattered all around, an inspired
band, rushed madly with mind all distraught, ranting "Euhoe," with tossing
of heads "Euhoe." Some with womanish hands shook thyrsi with wreath-covered
points; some tossed limbs of a rended steer; some engirt themselves with
writh