Theseus and the Minotaur

Through darkness thick as blood he feels his way,  
The tunnel wall beneath his hand is cold.  
What horrors lie ahead, he cannot say;  
Poor Theseus feels more terrified than bold.  
 
A bovine stench assails his nostrils now,  
Close by, a dreadful Something scrapes the ground,  
Irresolute, but mindful of his vow  
He stumbles on, alert for every sound.  
 
With bellowing roar, the beast leaps in the gloom;  
Theseus goes down, but thrusts his spear ahead:  
Wildly he stabs, screams echo round the tomb.  
The deed is done, the Minotaur is dead.  
 
He hurries back, impatient, out of breath,  
To Ariadne…and his father’s death.