Where gloomed the forest-solitudes around her
She grappled a fierce lion once in fight
Spearless. Then He of the far arrow-flight,
Apollo, God of the wide quiver, found her.
Straightway amazement-stricken did he cry on
Cheiron, whose rocky hall was hard thereby:
“Leave thou thine hallowed cave, O Philyra’s scion;
Gaze on the mighty strength with wondering eye
Of yonder woman, how with brow undaunted
She wages conflict grim! Not terror-haunted
Her spirit is in peril’s tempest-rush:
Her iron heart no weight of toil can crush!
What sire begat a child so lion-hearted?
From what strong kindred is she exile-parted,