uster as gold surpasses the yellowest tresses to
be found among mortals, was garlanded with a wreath of green myrtle,
beneath whose shadow I beheld two eyes of peerless splendor, so
enchanting that I could have gazed on them forever; they flashed forth
such luminous beams that it was a marvel; and all the rest of her
countenance had such transcendent loveliness that the like never was
seen here below. At first she spake no word, perchance content that I
should look upon her, or perchance seeing me so content to look upon
her. Then gradually through the translucent radiance, she revealed more
clearly every hidden grace, for she was aware that I could not believe
such beauty possible except I beheld it with my eyes, and that even then
words would fail me to picture it to mortals with my tongue. At last,
when she observed that I had sated my eyes with gazing on her, and when
she saw that her coming hither was as wondrous to me as her loveliness,
with smiling face, and in a voice sweeter than can be conceived by minds
like ours, she thus addressed me:

"Prithee, young woman, what art thou, the most fickle of thy sex,
preparing to do in obedience to the late counsels of thy aged nurse?
Knowest thou not that such counsels are far harder to follow than that
very love which thou desirest to flee? Hast thou reflected on the dire
and unendurable torments which compliance with them will entail on thee?
O most insensate one! dost thou then, who only a few hours ago wert my
willing vassal, now wish to break away from my gentle rule, because,
forsooth, of the words of an old woman, who is no longer vassal of mine,
as if, like her, thou art now unwitting of what delights I am the
source? O most witless of women! forbear, and reflect whether thou
shouldst not find befitting happiness in that which makes the happiness
of Heaven and earth. All things that Phoebus beholds during the bright
day, from what time he emerges from Ganges, until he plunges with his
tired steeds into the Hesperian waves, to seek due repose after his
wearisome pilgrimage; all things that are confined between cold Arcturus
and the red-hot pole, all own the absolute and authentic lordship of my
winged son; and in Heaven not only is he esteemed a god, like the other
deities, but he is so much more puissant than them all that not one
remains who has not heretofore been vanquished by his darts. He, flying
on golden plumage throughout his realms, with such swiftness that