By woe taken, but why? But how?
Cry not! Be crowned!
Dionysus his bride will make.
Furnished, you will wear robes sewn in
Gold, as the gift
Handsome Theseus here received.
“In tribute let
Just Athens’ sons and daughters face
King of Crete’s rage—
Labyrinth death for them,” decree said.
Not I, no—ordered their murders.
Please, sister, know: life is chaos.
Quick, you trusted,
Romanced too: thread and sword given—
Slay the henchman!
Then left the hero, Theseus.
Villains judge; innocent souls reaped.
Why do you weep?
Xanthus knows not for me but him.
Yet if Wine’s wife, live death with stars,
Zoned not in Tartarus’ heart.