1Now, as Lucifer uncovered the shining day and put to flight the hours of night, the east wind drops and the moist clouds rise: the gentle south winds give passage to the sons of Aeacus and to Cephalus as they return, and, driven on happily by them, they reached the harbour they sought sooner than expected. 6Meanwhile Minos lays waste the Lelegeian shores and tests the strength of his warfare on the city of Alcathous, which Nisus holds, on whose head, among the honoured grey hairs, in the middle of his crown, there clung a lock bright with purple, the guarantee of his great kingdom. 11The horns of the rising moon were growing again for the sixth time, and the fortune of the war still hung in the balance: and for a long time Victory flies between the two sides on uncertain wings.
14There was a royal tower built onto the singing walls, on which the son of Leto is said to have laid down his golden lyre: its sound clung to the stone. 17Often the daughter of Nisus used to climb up there and strike the echoing stones with a little pebble, at the time when there was peace: in war too she would often watch from it the contests of stern Mars. 21And now, from the long delay of the war, she knew even the names of the chiefs, and their arms and horses and dress and Cydonian quivers. 23Above all others she knew the face of the leader, Europa's son, even more than was enough to know it.
24In her judgement Minos, if he had hidden his head in a helmet crested with plumes, was handsome in a helmet; 26if he had taken up a shield gleaming with bronze, it became him to have taken up a shield. 28He had hurled the pliant spear, drawing back his arms: the maiden praised the skill joined with strength. 30He had bent the wide bow, setting an arrow to it: so, she swore, Phoebus stood when he had taken up his arrows. 32But when he had bared his face, the bronze removed, and, clad in purple, was pressing the back of a white horse, splendid with an embroidered saddle-cloth, and guiding its foaming mouth, the maiden daughter of Nisus was scarcely her own, scarcely mistress of a sound mind.
36She called the javelin he touched lucky, and lucky the reins he gripped in his hand. 38She has an urge, if only it were allowed, to carry her maiden steps through the enemy column; she has an urge to throw her body from the top of the towers into the Cnossian camp, or to open the bronze-bound gates to the enemy, or anything else Minos might want. 42And as she sat gazing at the white tents of the Dictaean king, 'Whether I should rejoice,' she said, 'or grieve that this tearful war is being waged, is in doubt. 45I grieve that Minos is an enemy to the one who loves him: but had there been no war, he would never have been known to me.
47Yet he could end the war by taking me as a hostage; he could have me as his companion, me as the pledge of peace. 49If she who bore you, most beautiful of all things, was such as you yourself are, the god had good reason to burn for her. 51O, three times happy should I be, if I could glide through the air on wings and set foot in the camp of the Cnossian king, and, confessing myself and my flames, ask with what dowry he would wish me bought! 54only he must not ask for my father's citadel. 55For sooner let the hoped-for marriage-bed perish than I gain my power by treachery!
56Yet often the mercy of a gentle victor has made defeat profitable to many: he certainly wages a just war for his murdered son, and he is strong in his cause and in the arms that uphold the cause, and, I think, we shall be conquered. 60For what end awaits the city, when his own Mars will unbar these walls to him, and not our love? 62Better that he should be able to win without slaughter and delay and the expense of his own blood. 64At least I shall not fear that someone may unwittingly wound your breast, Minos. 65For who is so hard that he would dare, knowingly, to aim a cruel spear at you?
67The plan pleases, and my resolve is fixed: to hand over my country, together with myself, as my dowry, and to put an end to the war. 69But wishing is too little! 69Guards keep watch on the approaches, and my father holds the keys of the gates: him alone, unhappy that I am, I fear; he alone delays my prayers. 72Would the gods grant that I were without a father! 72Each of us, surely, is a god to himself: Fortune resists idle prayers. 74Another woman, long since kindled by so great a desire, would gladly destroy whatever stood in the way of her love. 76And why should any woman be braver than I?
76I would dare to go through fires and swords. 77Yet for this there is no need of any fires or swords: what I need is my father's lock. 79That to me is more precious than gold; that purple lock will make me blessed and mistress of my desire.'