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Book at Amazon.com  p. 13    LOAD my guilty hands with fetters,
if thou be my friend, now that my anger has departed. Rage it
was, look you, that made me raise my hand against my mistress. O
madman that I was I To think it was my hand that made her weep!
At that moment I would have struck my father and mother; nay, I
would have rained blows upon the gods themselves.  But say. Did
not Ajax, armed with his sevenfold shield, slaughter the flocks
that he seized in the broad meads? And the ill-fated Orestes
who, in his mother, wrought vengeance on his father, did he not
take arms against the Dark Sisters? And could I, I of all men,
dishevel her rangéd tresses? And did this mar my mistress's
beauty? Not so, she only looked the lovelier. In such guise they
say the daughter of Schœneus, armed with her bow, pursued the
beasts on Mænalus. In such a plight did Ariadne mourn, when she
beheld the swift south winds bearing away both the sails and the
promises of