Thrusts at some wondrous bird a clutching hand
Rough with its crush, because its tender nature
He knows not, though his will was to caress,
E’en so I brought the Jewel of this world
To ruin, all unwitting what I did.
Rhod.
His word is noble. Woe to him and me
That it is vain!
Gyges.
When the Castalian fount,