For those wild horses of the Thracian king,1170
Or Geryon's flock, or Libya's vanquished lords;
I do not shun the fight; see, here I stand,
Defenseless, even though with my own arms
Thou com'st against me, armorless. But why
Do Theseus and my father shun my glance?
Why do they turn away? Postpone your tears,1175
And tell me who has given my loved ones all
To death. What, father, art thou silent still?
Then do thou tell me, Theseus, faithful friend.