Penthesileia, bright and bold,
Led forth her Amazons of old,
And every man was fain to yield
Who met her on the Attic field
Save Theseus; by that bosom bare
Undazzled, or that golden hair;
He, without shuddering, dared to twist
Its rings around his stubborn fist.
The times are alter’d: now again
Our Attic virgins scour the plain,
And Pallas is observed to rear
O’er those her Ægis and her spear.