But, friends, of the guileful aid of the Cyprian Queen take thought;
For of her unto glorious issues shall all your toils be wrought.
And now of the things yet lying beyond these ask me nought.’
So answered Agênor’s son; and lo, those twain stood nigh,
The sons of the Thracian North-wind, swooping adown from the sky.
On the threshold their swift feet set they; and straight from his carven chair
Each hero upsprang, beholding the champions suddenly there.
Eager for tidings were they; and Zetes, still as he drew {430}
Hard breath from the toil of the hunting, told them how far they flew
Chasing them, told how Iris restrained them at point to slay;