the halls full of weepers,
Quarried by tombs all cliffs, and the bones gleam white on the sea-floor,
Numberless, gnawn by the herds who attend on the pitiless sea-gods,
Even as mine will be soon:  and yet noble it seems to me, dying,
Giving my life for a people, to save to the arms of their lovers
Maidens and youths for a while:  thee, fairest of all, shall I slay thee? 
Add not thy bones to the many, thus angering idly the dread ones! 
Either the monster will crush, or the sea-queen’s self overwhelm thee,
Vengeful, in tempest and foam, and the thundering walls of the surges. 
Why wilt thou follow me down? can we love in the black blank darkness? 
Love in the realms of the dead, in the land where all is forgotten? 
Why wilt thou follow me down? is it joy, on the desolate oozes,
Meagre to flit, gray ghosts in the depths of the gray salt water? 
Beautiful! why wilt thou die, and defraud fair girls of thy manhood? 
Surely one waits for thee longing, afar in the isles of the ocean. 
Go thy way; I mine; for the gods grudge pleasure to mortals.’ 
   Sobbing she ended her moan, as her neck, like a storm-bent lily,
Drooped with the weight of her woe, and her limbs sank, weary with watching,
Soft on the hard-ledged rock:  but the boy, with his eye on the monster,
Clasped her, and stood, like a god; and his lips curved proud as he answered—­
   ’Great are the pitiless sea-gods:  but greater the Lords of Olympus;
Greater the AEgis-wielder, and greater is she who attends him. 
Clear-eyed Justice her name is, the counsellor, loved of Athene;
Helper of heroes, who dare, in the god-given might of their manhood,
Greatly to do and to suffer, and far in the fens’ and the forests
Smite the devourers of men, Heaven-hated, brood of the giants,
Twyformed, strange, without like, who obey not the golden-haired Rulers. 
Vainly rebelling they rage, till they die by the swords of the heroes,
Even as this must die; for I burn with the wrath of my father,
Wandering, led by Athene; and dare whatsoever betides me. 
Led by Athene I won from the gray-haired terrible sisters
Secrets hidden from men, when I found them asleep on the sand-hills,
Keeping their eye and their tooth, till they showed me the perilous pathway
Over the waterless ocean, the valley that led to the Gorgon. 
Her too I slew in my craft, Medusa, the beautiful horror;
Taught by Athene I slew her, and saw not herself, but her image,
Watching the mirror of brass, in the shield which a goddess had lent me. 
Cleaving her brass-scaled throat, as she lay with her adders around her,
Fearless I bore off her head, in the folds of the mystical goat-skin
Hide of Amaltheie, fair nurse of the AEgis-wielder. 
Hither I bear it, a gift to the gods, and a death to my foe-men,
Freezing the seer to stone; to hide thine eyes from the horror. 
Kiss me but once, and I go.’