ent; and extending in its descent on either side, is bounded on
the one side by Sardis, on the other by the little Hypaepae.

While Pan is there boasting of his strains to the charming Nymphs, and
is warbling a little tune upon the reeds joined with wax, daring to
despise the playing of Apollo in comparison with his own, he comes to
the unequal contest under the arbitration of Tmolus.[12] The aged umpire
seats himself upon his own mountain, and frees his ears of the
{incumbering} trees. His azure-coloured hair is only covered with oak,
and acorns hang around his hollow temples. And looking at the God of the
flocks, he says, "there is no delay in {me}, your umpire." He sounds his
rustic reeds, and delights Midas with his uncouth music; for he, by
chance, is present as he plays. After this the sacred Tmolus turns his
face towards the countenance of Apollo; his words follow {the direction
of} his face. He, having his yellow head wreathed with Parnassian
laurel, sweeps the ground with his robe, soaked in Tyrian purple,[13]
and supports with his left hand his lyre, adorned with gems and Indian
ivory; the other hand holds the plectrum. The very posture is that of an
artist. He then touches the strings with a skilful thumb; charmed by the
sweetness of which, Tmolus bids Pan to hold his reeds in submission to
the lyre; and the judgment and decision of the sacred mountain pleases
them all. Yet it is blamed, and is called unjust by the voice of Midas
alone. But the Delian {God} does not allow his stupid ears to retain
their human shape: but draws them out to a {great} length, and he fills
them with grey hairs, and makes them unsteady at the lower part, and
gives them the power of moving. The rest {of his body} is that of a man;
in one part alone is he condemned {to punishment}; and he assumes the
ears of the slowly moving ass.

He, indeed, concealed them, and endeavoured to veil his temples, laden
with this foul disgrace, with a purple turban. But a servant, who was
wont to cut his hair, when long, with the steel {scissars}, saw it; who,
when he did not dare disclose the disgraceful thing he had seen, though
desirous to publish it, and yet could not keep it secret, retired, and
dug up the ground, and disclosed, in a low voice, what kind of ears he
had beheld on his master, and whispered it to the earth cast up. And
{then} he buried this discovery of his voice with the earth thrown in
again, and, having covered up the ditch, depar