Kneeling, her bosom all bedewed with tears⁠— On Pluto and the cruel Proserpine, To put her son to death. From Erebus The pitiless Erinnys, wandering In darkness, heard the prayer. Then straightway rose A sound of fearful tumult at the gates: The towers were battered, and the elder chiefs Of the Aetolians hastened to entreat The aid of Meleager, and they sent Priests of the gods, a chosen band, to pray That he would come to their defence. Large gifts They promised. Where the soil of Calydon Was best, they bade him choose a fruitful field Of fifty acres, half for vines, and half, Cleared of the trees, for tillage. Earnestly Did aged Oeneus, famed for horsemanship, Beseech him; to the chamber of his son, High-roofed, he climbed, and at the threshold shook The massive doors with knocking as he sued. His sisters and his reverend mother joined Their supplications: he resisted still. And much his friends, the dearest and most prized, Besought him, but they vainly strove to swerve His steadfast mind, till his own chamber felt