As a great ship with steady prow speeds on;forced forwards by the sweating arms of youthit plows the deep; so, breasting the great waves,the monster moved, until to reach the rockno further space remained than might the whirlof Balearic string encompass, throughthe middle skies, with plummet-mold of lead.That instant, spurning with his feet the ground,the youth rose upwards to a cloudy height;and when the shadow of the hero markedthe surface of the sea, the monster soughtvainly to vent his fury on the shade.As the swift bird of Jove, when he beholdsa basking serpent in an open field,exposing to the sun its mottled back,and seizes on its tail; lest it shall turnto strike with venomed fang, he fixes fasthis grasping talons in the scaly neck;so did the winged youth, in rapid flightthrough yielding elements, press downon the great monster's back, and thrust his sword,sheer to the hilt, in its right shoulder—loudits frightful torture sounded over the waves.—So fought the hero-son of Inachus.Wild with the grievous wound, the monster rearshigh in the air, or plunges in the waves;—or wheels around as turns the frightened boarshunning the hounds around him in full cry.The hero on his active wings avoidsthe monster's jaws, and with his crooked swordtortures its back wherever he may pierceits mail of hollow shell, or strikes betwixtthe ribs each side, or wounds its lashing tail,long, tapered as a fish.The monster spoutsforth streams—incarnadined with blood—that spray upon the hero's wings; who drenched,and heavy with the spume, no longer daresto trust existence to his dripping wings;but he discerns a rock, which rises clearabove the water when the sea is calm,but now is covered by the lashing waves.On this he rests; and as his left hand holdsfirm on the upmost ledge, he thrusts his sword,times more than three, unswerving in his aim,sheer through the monster's entrails.—Shouts of praiseresound along the shores, and even the Godsmay hear his glory in their high abodes.Her parents, Cepheus and Cassiope,most joyfully salute their son-in-law;declaring him the saviour of their house.And now, her chains struck off, the lovely causeand guerdon of his toil, walks on the shore.The hero washes his victorious handsin water newly taken from the sea:but lest the sand upon the shore might harmthe viper-covered head, he first prepareda bed of springy leaves, on which he threwweeds of the sea, produced beneath the waves.On them he laid Medusa's awful face,daughter of Phorcys;—and the living weeds,fresh taken from the boundless deep, imbibedthe monster's poison in their spongy pith:they hardened at the touch, and felt in branchand leaf unwonted stiffness. Sea-Nymphs, too,attempted to perform that prodigyon numerous other weeds, with like result:so pleased at their success, they raised new seeds,from plants wide-scattered on the salt expanse.Even from that day the coral has retainedsuch wondrous nature, that exposed to airit hardens.—Thus, a plant beneath the wavesbecomes a stone when taken from the sea.Three altars to three Gods he made of turf.To thee, victorious Virgin, did he buildan altar on the right, to Mercuryan altar on the left, and unto Jovean altar in the midst. He sacrificeda heifer to Minerva, and a calfto Mercury, the Wingfoot, and a bullto thee, O greatest of the Deities.Without a dower he takes Andromeda,the guerdon of his glorious victory,nor hesitates.—Now pacing in the van,both Love and Hymen wave the flaring torch,abundant perfumes lavished in the flames.The houses are bedecked with wreathed flowers;and lyres and flageolets resound, and songs—felicit notes that happy hearts declare.The portals opened, sumptuous halls displaytheir golden splendours, and the noble lordsof Cepheus' court take places at the feast,magnificently served.After the feast,when every heart was warming to the joys of genial Bacchus,then, Lyncidian Perseus asked about the land and its waysabout the customs and the character of its heroes.Straightway one of the dinner-companions made reply,and asked in turn, “ Now, valiant Perseus, praytell the story of the deed, that all may know,and what the arts and power prevailed, when youstruck off the serpent-covered head.”“There is,”continued Perseus of the house of Agenor,“There is a spot beneath cold Atlas, wherein bulwarks of enormous strength, to guardits rocky entrance, dwelt two sisters, bornof Phorcys. These were wont to share in turna single eye between them: this by craftI got possession of, when one essayedto hand it to the other.—I put forthmy hand and took it as it passed between:then, far, remote, through rocky pathless crags,over wild hills that bristled with great woods,I thence arrived to where the Gorgon dwelt.“Along the way, in fields and by the roads,I saw on all sides men and animals—like statues—turned to flinty stone at sightof dread Medusa's visage. Neverthelessreflected on the brazen shield, I boreupon my left, I saw her horrid face.“When she was helpless in the power of sleepand even her serpent-hair was slumber-bound,I struck, and took her head sheer from the neck.—To winged Pegasus the blood gave birth,his brother also, twins of rapid wing.”So did he speak, and truly told besidesthe perils of his journey, arduousand long—He told of seas and lands that farbeneath him he had seen, and of the starsthat he had touched while on his waving wings.And yet, before they were aware, the talewas ended; he was silent. Then rejoineda noble with enquiry why aloneof those three sisters, snakes were interspersedin dread Medusa's locks. And he replied:—“Because, O Stranger, it is your desireto learn what worthy is for me to tell,hear ye the cause: Beyond all others shewas famed for beauty, and the envious hopeof many suitors. Words would fail to tellthe glory of her hair, most wonderfulof all her charms—A friend declared to mehe saw its lovely splendour. Fame declaresthe Sovereign of the Sea attained her lovein chaste Minerva's temple. While enragedshe turned her head away and held her shieldbefore her eyes. To punish that great crimeMinerva changed the Gorgon's splendid hairto serpents horrible. And now to strikeher foes with fear, she wears upon her breastthose awful vipers—creatures of her rage.