But he came, he came, with a song in the night.
With fire, with blood; and she strove in flight,
A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white,
Faster and vainly faster,
Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might.
Alas, thou Bride of Disaster!

O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall,
That Dirce's wells run under,
Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall!
Ye saw the heavens around her flare,
When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair
Of twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there
The Bride of the bladed Thunder.
For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in the air,
Bee-like, death-like, a wonder.
[_During the last lines_ PHAEDRA _has approached the door
and is listening_.]

PHAEDRA
Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.

LEADER
How? In the house?--Phaedra, what fear is this?

PHAEDRA
Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!

LEADER
I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.