No More Learning

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 Taurus 105
Its 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, 110
Vainly tossing its horns and goring the wind to no purpose.
Thence with abounding praise returned he, guiding his footsteps,
Whiles did a fine drawn thread check steps in wander abounding,
Lest when issuing forth of the winding maze labyrinthine
Baffled become his track by inobservable error. 115
But for what cause should I, from early subject digressing,
Tell of the daughter who the face of her sire unseeing,
Eke her sister's embrace nor less her mother's endearments,
Who in despair bewept her hapless child that so gladly
Chose before every and each the lively wooing of Theseus? 120
Or how borne by the ship to the yeasting shore-line of Dia
Came she? or how when bound her eyes in bondage of slumber
Left her that chosen mate with mind unmindful departing?
Often (they tell) with heart inflamed by fiery fury
Poured she shrilling of shrieks from deepest depths of her bosom; 125
Now she would sadly scale the broken faces of mountains,
Whence she might overglance the boundless boiling of billows,
Then she would rush to bestem the salt-plain's quivering wavelet
And from her ankles bare the dainty garment uplifting,
Spake she these words ('tis said) from sorrow's deepest abysses, 130
Whiles from her tear-drencht face outburst cold shivering singulfs.
"Thus fro' my patrial shore, O traitor, hurried to exile,
Me on a lonely strand hast left, perfidious Theseus?
Thus wise farest, despite the godhead of Deities spurned,
(Reckless, alas! ) to thy home convoying perjury-curses? 135
Naught, then, ever availed that mind of cruelest counsel
Alter? No saving grace in thee was evermore ready,
That to have pity on me vouchsafed thy pitiless bosom?
Natheless not in past time such were the promises wordy
Lavished; nor such hopes to me the hapless were bidden; 140
But the glad married joys, the longed-for pleasures of wedlock.
All now empty and vain, by breath of the breezes bescattered!
Now, let woman no more trust her to man when he sweareth,
Ne'er let her hope to find or truth or faith in his pleadings,
Who whenas lustful thought forelooks to somewhat attaining, 145
Never an oath they fear, shall spare no promise to promise.
Yet no sooner they sate all lewdness and lecherous fancy,
Nothing remember of words and reck they naught of fore-swearing.
Certes, thee did I snatch from midmost whirlpool of ruin
Deadly, and held it cheap loss of a brother to suffer 150
Rather than fail thy need (O false! ) at hour the supremest.
Therefor my limbs are doomed to be torn of birds, and of ferals
Prey, nor shall upheapt Earth afford a grave to my body.
Say me, what lioness bare thee 'neath lone rock of the desert?
What sea spued thee conceived from out the spume of his surges! 155
What manner Syrt, what ravening Scylla, what vasty Charybdis?
Thou who for sweet life saved such meeds art lief of returning!
If never willed thy breast with me to mate thee in marriage,
Hating the savage law decreed by primitive parent,
Still of your competence 'twas within your household to home me, 160
Where I might serve as slave in gladsome service familiar,
Laving thy snow-white feet in clearest chrystalline waters
Or with its purpling gear thy couch in company strewing.
Yet for what cause should I 'plain in vain to the winds that unknow me,
(I so beside me with grief! ) which ne'er of senses endued 165
Hear not the words sent forth nor aught avail they to answer?
Now be his course well-nigh engaged in midway of ocean,
Nor any mortal shape appears in barrens of seawrack.
Thus at the latest hour with insults over-sufficient
E'en to my plaints fere Fate begrudges ears that would hear me. 170
Jupiter! Lord of All-might, Oh would in days that are bygone
Ne'er had Cecropian poops toucht ground at Gnossian foreshore,
Nor to th' unconquered Bull that tribute direful conveying
Had the false Seaman bound to Cretan island his hawser,
Nor had yon evil wight, 'neath shape the softest hard purpose 175
Hiding, enjoyed repose within our mansion beguested!
Whither can wend I now?