Of Danae’s son, of the shower of gold, as the legend telleth,
Begotten. But when the Maid had released from his labours’ strain
The man she befriended, she framed the manifold music that welleth
From the flute, that her harmonies so might mimic the shrieks of pain
Wild and high from Euryale’s ravening jaws outshrilling.
Her devising it was, but she gave it to mortal men to possess;
And the “Strain of the Many Heads” she named it, the spirit-thrilling
Kindler of hearts to the contests whereinto multitudes press,