Before his spear the Amazon yields;
The breastless host, with moonèd shields,
Far o’er Thermodon’s famous fields
He drove to Colchian shores.
The Xanthian king despairs the strife—
“Let Prœtus fight for Prœtus’ wife;
I will not tempt the charmèd life
Of valiant Glaucus’ son!”
Nor more against the gods he strives,
But with his hand his daughter gives