Bounds from his lair to his predestined prey:
So plunged the strong man in the untrodden brake—
(Lovers are maniacs)—for his darling's sake.
He scoured far fields—what hill or oaken glen
Remembers not that pilgrimage of pain?
His troth to Jason was forgotten then.
Long time the good ship tarried for those twain
With hoisted sails; night came and still they cleared
The hatches, but no Heracles appeared.
On he was wandering, reckless where he trod,