But when there came to their view a well-girt-up, deep-bosomed maiden,

Lost they their ???, and helplessly curled on their benches.

Followed her many a one, all peerless euplokomos numphes,

Amazons, too, were they called, though not in a sense truly classic;

Felt they no whit of the shame which made much-enduring Ulysses,

'Cause he'd forgotten his clothes, hide himself in an owl-headed thicket.

Rose then the chief of his gang, the scurrile, buffoon-like Thersites,

And, pointing to one of the maids, said, "My stars! twig her eye! what a beauty!"

As when a high-minded wolf, who knows of no lord but his belly,

Flies at the loud-roaring lambs, and scatters destruction among them,

So did the speech of the youth scare the deep-bosomed, well-girt-up maidens.

But came a voice from the stage of a fat, many-dashing old actor,

And from his tongue as he spoke flowed there language far sweeter than honey:

"Who, damizize, has thus spoke winged words to a real, perfect lady?

Fear not: you'll all know his name, in the shrill, clear-voiced tones of the Herald."