So he spake, and called to his horses: and at his chiding they quickly whirled the swift chariot along, like long-winged birds.
But grief yet more terrible and savage came into the heart of Demeter, and thereafter she was so angered with the dark-clouded Son of Cronos that she avoided the gathering of the gods and high Olympus
, and went to the towns and rich fields of men, disfiguring her form a long while. And no one of men
or deep-bosomed women knew her when they saw her, until she came to the house of wise Celeus who then was lord of fragrant Eleusis
. Vexed in her dear heart, she sat near the wayside by the Maiden Well, from which the women of the place were used to draw water,
in a shady place over which grew an olive shrub. And she was like an ancient woman who is cut off from childbearing and the gifts of garland-loving Aphrodite, like the nurses of kings' children who deal justice, or like the house-keepers in their echoing halls.
There the daughters of Celeus, son of Eleusis
, saw her, as they were coming for easy-drawn water, to carry it in pitchers of bronze to their dear father's house: four were they and like goddesses in the flower of their girlhood, Callidice and Cleisidice and lovely Demo
and Callithoe+ who was the eldest of them all. They knew her not, —for the gods are not easily discerned by mortals —, but standing near by her spoke winged words:
“Old mother, whence and who are you of folk born long ago? Why are you gone away from the city and do not draw near the houses?
For there in the shady halls are women of just such age as you, and others younger; and they would welcome you both by word and by deed.”