u will straightway envy you,
so great reward would I give for his upbringing.'

(ll. 224-230) Then rich-haired Demeter answered her: 'And to you, also,
lady, all hail, and may the gods give you good! Gladly will I take the
boy to my breast, as you bid me, and will nurse him. Never, I ween,
through any heedlessness of his nurse shall witchcraft hurt him nor
yet the Undercutter [2508]: for I know a charm far stronger than
the Woodcutter, and I know an excellent safeguard against woeful
witchcraft.'

(ll. 231-247) When she had so spoken, she took the child in her fragrant
bosom with her divine hands: and his mother was glad in her heart. So
the goddess nursed in the palace Demophoon, wise Celeus' goodly son whom
well-girded Metaneira bare. And the child grew like some immortal being,
not fed with food nor nourished at the breast: for by day rich-crowned
Demeter would anoint him with ambrosia as if he were the offspring of
a god and breathe sweetly upon him as she held him in her bosom. But at
night she would hide him like a brand in the heart of the fire, unknown
to his dear parents. And it wrought great wonder in these that he grew
beyond his age; for he was like the gods face to face. And she would
have made him deathless and unageing, had not well-girded Metaneira in
her heedlessness kept watch by night from her sweet-smelling chamber and
spied. But she wailed and smote her two hips, because she feared for her
son and was greatly distraught in her heart; so she lamented and uttered
winged words:

(ll. 248-249) 'Demophoon, my son, the strange woman buries you deep in
fire and works grief and bitter sorrow for me.'

(ll. 250-255) Thus she spoke, mourning. And the bright goddess,
lovely-crowned Demeter, heard her, and was wroth with her. So with her
divine hands she snatched from the fire the dear son whom Metaneira had
born unhoped-for in the palace, and cast him from her to the ground; for
she was terribly angry in her heart. Forthwith she said to well-girded
Metaneira:

(ll. 256-274) 'Witless are you mortals and dull to foresee your
lot, whether of good or evil, that comes upon you. For now in your
heedlessness you have wrought folly past healing; for--be witness the
oath of the gods, the relentless water of Styx--I would have made your
dear son deathless and unageing all his days and would have bestowed on
him everlasting honour, but now he can in no way escape death and the
fates. Yet shall unfailing honour alwa