His golden locks, that flow'd with grace divine,
Hung clustering like the branches of the vine;
In his left hand, his bow unbent he bore,
His quiver pendant on his back he wore:
The conscious island trembled as he trod,
And the big rolling waves confess'd the God.
Nor dar'd the heroes, seiz'd with dire dismay,
The splendors of his countenance survey,
But on the ground their downward eyes they cast.

Lines 861–869; of Apollo. Compare:...hyacinthine locks Round from his parted forelock manly hung Clustering. Paradise Lost by John Milton (1674), IV. 299–301; of Adam. - Argonautica (3rd century BC) - Book II