Pined with unnumbered fears.
But Ares, lately stung to furious strife,
Frees him for ever[3] from the toilsome life.

O let him come to-day! II
Ne'er may his vessel stay,
But glide with feathery sweep of many an oar,
Till from his altar by yon island shore
Even to our town he wind his prosperous way,
In mien returning mild,
And inly reconciled,
With that anointing in his heart ingrained,
Which the dark Centaur's wizard lips ordained.

_Enter_ DÊANIRA.

DÊ. O how I fear, my friends, lest all too far
I have ventured in my action of to-day!

CH. What ails thee, Dêanira, Oeneus' child?

DÊ. I know not, but am haunted by a dread,
Lest quickly I be found to have performed
A mighty mischief, through bright hopes betrayed.

CH. Thou dost not mean thy gift to Heracles?

DÊ. Indeed I do. Now I perceive how fond
Is eagerness, where actions are obscure.