“[...] He deftly strung his little bow and from the quiver chose a virgin arrow laden with future groans. His speedy feet whisked him across the threshold, he himself unnoticed as he keenly scanned the scene. Then, crouching low beneath the son of Aeson, he nocked the arrow midway up the string, and, parting bow and string with both hands, shot Medea. Sudden muteness gripped her spirit. The god, then, fluttered from the high-roofed hall, cackling, and the arrow burned like fire deep, deep down beneath the maiden’s heart. She fired scintillating glances over and over at the son of Aeson. Anguish quickened her heart and panted in her breast, and she could think of him, him only, nothing but him, as sweet affliction drained her soul. [...] so all-consuming Eros curled around Medea’s heart and blazed there secretly.” MythologyJasonErosMedeaArgonauts Author:Appolonius