A dark-prowed ship, carrying Theseus, steadfast in the din of battle, and twice seven splendid Ionian youths, was cleaving the Cretan sea; for northern breezes fell on the far-shining sail, by the will of glorious Athena, shaker of the aegis. And the holy gifts of Cypris with her lovely headband scratched the heart of Minos. He no longer kept his hand away from the maiden; he touched her white cheeks. And Eriboea cried out to the descendant of Pandion with his bronze breastplate. Theseus saw, and he rolled his dark eyes under his brows; cruel pain tore his heart, and he spoke: Son of greatest Zeus, the spirit you guide in your heart is no longer pious. Hero, restrain your overbearing force. Whatever the all-powerful fate of the gods has granted for us, and however the scale of Justice inclines, we shall fulfill our appointed destiny when it comes. As for you, hold back from your oppressive scheme. It may be that the dear lovely-named daughter of Phoenix went to the bed of Zeus beneath the brow of Ida and bore you, greatest of mortals, but I too was borne by the daughter of rich Pittheus,