ng ready the feast, after sacrificing at nightfall to
Apollo Ecbasius.

But the son of Zeus having duly enjoined on his comrades to prepare the
feast took his way into a wood, that he might first fashion for himself
an oar to fit his hand. Wandering about he found a pine not burdened
with many branches, nor too full of leaves, but like to the shaft of a
tall poplar; so great was it both in length and thickness to look at.
And quickly he laid on the ground his arrow-holding quiver together with
his bow, and took off his lion's skin. And he loosened the pine from the
ground with his bronze-tipped club and grasped the trunk with both hands
at the bottom, relying on his strength; and he pressed it against his
broad shoulder with legs wide apart; and clinging close he raised it
from the ground deep-rooted though it was, together with clods of earth.
And as when unexpectedly, just at the time of the stormy setting of
baleful Orion, a swift gust of wind strikes down from above, and
wrenches a ship's mast from its stays, wedges and all; so did Heracles
lift the pine. And at the same time he took up his bow and arrows, his
lion skin and club, and started on his return.

Meantime Hylas with pitcher of bronze in hand had gone apart from the
throng, seeking the sacred flow of a fountain, that he might be quick in
drawing water for the evening meal and actively make all things ready in
due order against his lord's return. For in such ways did Heracles
nurture him from his first childhood when he had carried him off from
the house of his father, goodly Theiodamas, whom the hero pitilessly
slew among the Dryopians because he withstood him about an ox for the
plough. Theiodamas was cleaving with his plough the soil of fallow land
when he was smitten with the curse; and Heracles bade him give up the
ploughing ox against his will. For he desired to find some pretext for
war against the Dryopians for their bane, since they dwelt there
reckless of right. But these tales would lead me far astray from my
song. And quickly Hylas came to the spring which the people who dwell
thereabouts call Pegae. And the dances of the nymphs were just now being
held there; for it was the care of all the nymphs that haunted that
lovely headland ever to hymn Artemis in songs by night. All who held the
mountain peaks or glens, all they were ranged far off guarding the
woods; but one, a water-nymph was just rising from the fair-flowing
spring; and the boy she p