took a swarthy hue,
the hot blood tingling to the surface: then
the heat dried up the land of Libya;
dishevelled, the lorn Nymphs, lamenting, sought
for all their emptied springs and lakes in vain;
Boeotia wailed for Dirce's cooling wave,
and Argos wailed for Amymone's stream—
and even Corinth for the clear Pyrene.
Not safer from the flames were distant streams;—
the Tanais in middle stream was steaming
and old Peneus and Teuthrantian Caicus,
Ismenus, rapid and Arcadian Erymanthus;
and even Xanthus destined for a second burning,
and tawny-waved Lycormas, and Meander,
turning and twisting, and Thracian Melas burns,
and the Laconian Eurotas burns,
the mighty Babylonian Euphrates,
Orontes and the Ganges, swift Thermodon,
Ister and Phasis and Alpheus boil.
The banks of Spercheus burn, the gold of Tagus
is melting in the flames. The swans whose songs
enhanced the beauties of Maeonian banks
are scalded in the Cayster's middle wave.
The Nile affrighted fled to parts remote,
and hid his head
publicly proclaims unhallowed love.
Grown desperate, she left her hated home,
her native land, and followed the loved steps
of her departed brother. Just as those
crazed by your thyrsus, son of Semele!
The Bacchanals of Ismarus, aroused,
howl at your orgies, so her shrieks were heard
by the shocked women of Bubassus, where
the frenzied Byblis howled across the fields,
and so through Caria and through Lycia,
over the mountain Cragus and beyond
the town, Lymira, and the flowing stream
called Xanthus, and the ridge where dwelt
Chimaera, serpent-tailed and monstrous beast,
fire breathing from its lion head and neck.
She hurried through the forest of that ridge—
and there at last worn out with your pursuit,
O Byblis, you fell prostrate, with your hair
spread over the hard ground, and your wan face
buried in fallen leaves. Although the young,
still tender-hearted nymphs of Leleges,
advised her fondly how to cure her love,
and offered comfort to her heedless heart,
and even lifted her in th