erceived close at hand with the rosy flush of
his beauty and sweet grace. For the full moon beaming from the sky smote
him. And Cypris made her heart faint, and in her confusion she could
scarcely gather her spirit back to her. But as soon as he dipped the
pitcher in the stream, leaning to one side, and the brimming water rang
loud as it poured against the sounding bronze, straightway she laid her
left arm above upon his neck yearning to kiss his tender mouth; and with
her right hand she drew down his elbow, and plunged him into the midst
of the eddy.

Alone of his comrades the hero Polyphemus, son of Eilatus, as he went
forward on the path, heard the boy's cry, for he expected the return of
mighty Heracles. And he rushed after the cry, near Pegae, like some
beast of the wild wood whom the bleating of sheep has reached from afar,
and burning with hunger he follows, but does not fall in with the
flocks; for the shepherds beforehand have penned them in the fold, but
he groans and roars vehemently until he is weary. Thus vehemently at
that time did the son of Eilatus groan and wandered shouting round the
spot; and his voice rang piteous. Then quickly drawing his great sword
he started in pursuit, in fear lest the boy should be the prey of wild
beasts, or men should have lain in ambush for him faring all alone, and
be carrying him off, an easy prey. Hereupon as he brandished his bare
sword in his hand he met Heracles himself on the path, and well he knew
him as he hastened to the ship through the darkness. And straightway he
told the wretched calamity while his heart laboured with his panting
breath.

"My poor friend, I shall be the first to bring thee tidings of bitter
woe. Hylas has gone to the well and has not returned safe, but robbers
have attacked and are carrying him off, or beasts are tearing him to
pieces; I heard his cry."

Thus he spake; and when Heracles heard his words, sweat in abundance
poured down from his temples and the black blood boiled beneath his
heart. And in wrath he hurled the pine to the ground and hurried along
the path whither his feet bore on his impetuous soul. And as when a bull
stung by a gadfly tears along, leaving the meadows and the marsh land,
and recks not of herdsmen or herd, but presses on, now without check,
now standing still, and raising his broad neck he bellows loudly, stung
by the maddening fly; so he in his frenzy now would ply his swift knees
unresting, now again would cease