The lament that she heard from the awful maids’ snake-heads outshrieking,
As it poured from their lips forth laden with bitterest anguish of grief,
When Perseus had smitten the third, their sister, with bronze death-wreaking,
And bare thence doom to Seriphus’ island-folk and their chief.
Yea, and the wondrous daughters of Phorkys he spoiled of vision,
And bitter for Polydektes his bridal-gift he made,
Bitter his mother’s thraldom, her spousals’ enforced decision,
With the head of Medusa the weirdly beautiful, shorn by the blade