hters seven. And the time will come
when by their marriage they will magnify
the circle of my power invincible.
“All must acknowledge my just cause of pride
and must no longer worship, in despite
of my superior birth, this deity,
a daughter of ignoble Coeus, whom
one time the great Earth would not even grant
sufficient space for travail: whom the Heavens,
the Land, the Sea together once compelled
to wander, hopeless on all hostile shores!
Throughout the world she found herself rebuffed,
till Delos, sorry for the vagrant, said,
‘Homeless you roam the lands, and I the seas!’
And even her refuge always was adrift.
“And there she bore two children, who, compared
with mine, are but as one to seven. Who
denies my fortunate condition?—Who
can doubt my future?—I am surely safe.
“The wealth of my abundance is too strong
for Fortune to assail me. Let her rage
despoil me of large substance; yet so much
would still be mine, for I have risen above
the blight of apprehension. But, suppose
whisper, “Be propitious, hear
my supplications, and forget not me!”
And I, observing him, echoed the words,
“Forget not me!” which, having done, I turned
to him and said, “Whose altar can this be?
Perhaps a sacred altar of the Fauns,
or of the Naiads, or a native God?”
To which my guide replied, “Young man, such Gods
may not be worshiped at this altar. She
whom once the royal Juno drove away
to wander a harsh world, alone permits
this altar to be used: that goddess whom
the wandering Isle of Delos, at the time
it drifted as the foam, almost refused
There Latona, as she leaned
against a palm-tree—and against the tree
most sacred to Minerva, brought forth twins,
although their harsh step-mother, Juno, strove
to interfere.—And from the island forced
to fly by jealous Juno, on her breast
she bore her children, twin Divinities.
At last, outwearied with the toil, and parched
with thirst—long-wandering in those heated days
over the arid land of Lycia, where
was bred th
answered in these words:
“O my dear mother, if you weep because
of her who was your servant, now transformed
into a weasel, how can you support
the true narration of my sister's fate;
which I must tell to you, although my tears
and sorrows hinder and forbid my speech?
“Most beautiful of all Oechalian maids,
was Dryope, her mother's only child,
for you must know I am the daughter of
my father's second wife. She is not now
a maid; because, through violence of him
who rules at Delphi and at Delos, she
was taken by Andraemon, who since then
has been accounted happy in his wife.
“There is a lake surrounded by sweet lawns,
encircling beauties, where the upper slope
is crowned with myrtles in fair sunny groves.
Without a thought of danger Dryope
in worship one day went to gather flowers,
(who hears, has greater cause to be indignant)
delightful garlands, for the water-nymphs,
and, in her bosom, carried her dear son,
not yet a year old, whom she fed for love.
Not far from that dream-lake,<