The daughter of Phlegyas, lord of the car,
Not yet with help of the Travail-queen
Had borne that Healer renowned afar,
Ere by Artemis’ golden arrows keen
In her bride-bower stricken to death she lay,
And trod the unreturning way
Unto Hades’ halls; for Apollo had seen
The transgression that slew his love in a day.
For the wrath of the Sons of Zeus not in vain
Burns. In her folly she dared think scorn
Of his anger: unknown to her sire had she ta’en
To her arms a human lover, forsworn
To her bridal troth, to her plighted word,
To the love of Apollo the Archer-lord
Of the hair unshorn,