Hewn from the living rock by patient art,
Its craftsman’s master-work!
Drawing near, he perceives that this thing of beauty is a living maiden, and at once longs to make her his bride. When she asks his name, instead of proudly claiming Zeus as his father, he mentions his own name, his journey’s end, and his achievement:—
Περσεύς, πρὸς Ἄργος ναυστολῶν, τὸ Γοργόνος
κάρα κομίζων.
But he is no mediæval knight; he does not forbear to state his claim before addressing himself to the task: “And if I save thee, maid, wilt give me thanks?” Andromeda, on her side, feels and speaks without subtlety:—
Stranger, have pity on my sore distress:
Free me from bonds,
and again
Take me, O stranger, for thy handmaiden,