ocis, and Diomeda, the daughter of Xuthus. The
first was carried off by Aurora, and went to live with her in Syria;
the second married Procris, the daughter of Erectheus, king of Athens.
Though Apollodorus seems, in the first instance, to follow this
genealogy, in his third book he confounds the actions of those two
princes. Ovid and other writers have spoken only of the son of
Deioneus, who was carried off by Aurora, and having left her,
according to them, returned to Procris.

FABLE VIII. [VII.794-865]

Procris, jealous of Cephalus, in her turn, goes to the forest, which
she supposes to be the scene of his infidelity, to surprise him.
Hearing the rustling noise which she makes in the thicket, where she
lies concealed, he imagines it is a wild beast, and, hurling the
javelin, which she has formerly given to him, he kills her.

Thus far {did he speak}; and {then} he was silent. "But," said Phocus,
"what fault is there in that javelin?" {whereupon} he thus informed him
of the demerits of the javelin. "Let my joys, Phocus, be the first
portion of my sorrowful story. These will I first relate. O son of
AEacus, I delight to remember the happy time, during which, for the first
years {after my marriage}, I was completely blessed in my wife, {and}
she was happy in her husband. A mutual kindness and social love
possessed us both. Neither would she have preferred the bed of Jupiter
before my love; nor was there any woman that could have captivated me,
not {even} if Venus herself had come. Equal flames fired the breasts {of
us both}. The Sun striking the tops of the mountains with his early
rays, I was wont generally to go with youthful ardor into the woods, to
hunt; but I neither suffered my servants, nor my horses, nor my
quick-scented hounds to go {with me}, nor the knotty nets to attend me;
I was safe with my javelin. But when my right hand was satiated with the
slaughter of wild beasts, I betook myself to the cool spots and the
shade, and the breeze which was breathing forth from the cool valleys.
The gentle breeze was sought by me, in the midst of the heat. For the
breeze was I awaiting; that was a refreshment after my toils: 'Come,
breeze,' I was wont to sing, for I remember it {full well}, 'and, most
grateful, refresh me, and enter my breast; and, as thou art wont, be
willing to assuage the heat with which I am parched.' Perhaps I may have
added ({for} so my destiny prompted me) many words of e