Swift e’en as thought he flew. The visage grim
Of monstrous Gorgon all his back o’erspread:
And wrought in silver, wondrous to behold,
A veil was drawn around it, whence in gold
Hung glittering fringes: and the dreadful helm
Of Pluto clasp’d the temples of the prince,
Shedding a night of darkness. Thus outstretch’d
In air, he seem’d like one to trembling flight
Betaken. Close behind the Gorgons twain
Of nameless terror unapproachable