"Aye, this is he,
A proud and mighty spirit: how fine his form,
Gigantic! moulded like the race that strove
To take Jove's heaven by storm, and scare him from
Olympus. There he sits, a demi-god,
Stern as when he of yore forsook the maid
Who, doating saved him from the Cretan toil,
Where he had slain the Minotaur. Alas!
Fond Ariadne, thee did he desert,
And heartless left thee on the Naiad's shore
To languish. This is he who dared to roam
The world infernal, and on Pluto's queen,
Ceres' own lost Prosperina, did lay
His hand: thence was he prisoned in the vaults
Beneath, 'till freed by Hercules. Methinks
(So perfect is the Phidian stone) his sire,
The sea god Neptune, hath in anger stopped
The current of life, and with his trident touch
Hath struck him into marble."