He drove his golden sun chariot through the heavens every day, and on his lyre he played sweet music. […] “He drove his golden sun chariot through the heavens.” […] He shot the arrow of lead into her heart, and the girl felt a cold shiver run through her. […] I am wounded through, — I die with pain — in sooth I do! […] With swift, noiseless wings he sped through the air till he came to the palace of the queen.