"Cupid, the saucy kid, by winged sleep conquered was lying Midway a myrtle copse in grasses spangled with dewdrops. Then from the dark abode of Dis some spirits came flying, Gathering warily round-these ghosts with his fires he had tortured— ... "Lo! my pursuer lies here. Come quickly", quoth Phaedra, "let's tie him". Cruel Scylla exclaimed, "Those lovely tresses! We'll shear him". Colchis and Procne bereaved, "With torturous slaughter draw nigh him". Dido and Canace then, "With relentless weapon we'll spear him". Myrrha, "With faggots of mine", and Evadne, "with fire let us fry him". Byblis and then Arethusa cry out, "In water we'll try him". Cupid awakening sneers, "My pinions, how quickly we'll fly 'em"."