Now, since their nuptials, had the golden sun Five courses round his ample zodiac run, When gentle Procne thus her lord address’d, And spoke the secret wishes of her breast: “If I,” she said, “have ever favour found, Let my petition with success be crown’d. Let me at Athens my dear sister see; Or, let her come to Thrace and visit me; And, lest my father should her absence mourn, Promise that she shall make a quick return. With thanks I’d own the obligation due, Only, O Tereus, to the gods and you.”

Now, plied with oar and sail at his command, The nimble galleys reach’d the Athenian land, And anchor’d in the famed Piraean bay, While Tereus to the palace takes his way; The king salutes, and, ceremonies pass’d, Begins the fatal embassy at last: The occasion of his voyage he declares, And, with his own, his wife’s request prefers; Asks leave that, only for a little space, Their lovely sister might embark for Thrace.