My breath against the hollow earth is bent, The quaking world above, and ghosts below, My mighty power, by dear experience, know, Tremble with fear, and dread the fatal blow. This is the only cure to be applied, Thus to Erechtheus I should be allied; And thus the scornful virgin should be woo’d, Not by entreaty, but by force subdued.”

Boreas, in passion, spoke these huffing things, And, as he spoke, he shook his dreadful wings, At which, afar the shivering sea was fann’d, And the wide surface of the distant land: His dusty mantle o’er the hills he drew, And swept the lowly valleys as he flew; Then, with his yellow wings, embraced the maid, And, wrapp’d in dusky clouds, far off convey’d. The sparkling blaze of love’s prevailing fire Shone brighter as he flew, and flamed the higher And now the god, possess’d of his delight, To northern Thrace pursued his airy flight.