And cried, "Can still th' Œolian monarch sleep?
The courser with this wished-for bridle tame,
And to the god who rules the stormy deep,
As the white bullock on his altar bleeds, 105
Display as strong a rein as checks his fiery steeds."
'Twas thus, as plunged in sleep he lay,
The godlike maid, who joys to wield
The terrors of her azure shield,
Seem'd in the shadowy gloom to say. 110
On eager foot the monarch rose
And seized the wonder glittering near,
Then straight the whole bright vision shows
To Polyidus, native seer,
That when by night retired to rest, 115
Obedient to the high behest,
Within her consecrated fane,
The virgin progeny of Jove,
Who darts his lightning spear above,
Gave to his hand the golden rein. 111 120
The prophet bade him swift obey
This passage of the will divine,
A sturdy bull to Neptune slay,
And to equestrian Pallas rear the shrine.
Full oft the gods with power supreme 125
Have brought the wish'd event to birth,
Beyond the utmost hope or dream
Of the short-sighted sons of earth.
Even thus Bellerophon the bold
With gentle rein thrown o'er his head, 130
The winged courser's pride controll'd,
And at his potent bidding led. 122
Then quickly mounting, sportive play'd
In brazen panoply array'd.
Borne by his faithful steed, he sought the field, 135
Where blows the desert air with chilling breath;
