ethren, was the master, an aged man, a heavy mass of white hair on
head and chin. The shepherd, hastening, came to him and told him the
story, Imploring his aid. The old man smiled to himself; but He agreed
to go, and investigate the hidden cause of the miracle.

When he has come to the hills, he observes the lambs, together With
their mothers, gnawing the berries of an unknown plant, And cries, "This
is the cause of the trouble!" And saying no More, he at once picks the
smooth fruit from the heavily-laden Tree, and carries it home, places
it, when washed, in pure Water, cooking it over the fire, and fearlessly
drinks a large Cup of it. Forthwith a warmth pervades his veins, a
living Force is diffused through his limbs, and weariness is dispelled
from his aged body. Then, at length, the old man exulting in the
blessing thus found, Rejoices, and kindly shares with all his brothers.
They eagerly At early night-fall, indulge in pleasant banquets and drain
great bowls. No longer is it hard for them to break off sweet sleep and
to leave their soft beds as formerly. O fortunate ones! whose hearts the
sweet draught has often Bathed. No sluggish torpor holds their minds,
they briskly Rise for their prescribed duties and rejoice to outstrip
the rays of the first light.

You also, whose care it is to feed minds with divine eloquence And to
terrify with your words the souls of the guilty, you also Should indulge
in the pleasant drink; for, as you know, it Strengthens weakness. Keen
vigor is gained for the limbs from This source, and spreads through the
whole body. From this source, Too, shall come new strength and new power
to your voice. You also, whom oft harmful vapors harass, whose sick
brain the dangerous vertigo shakes, Ah, come! In this sweet liquid is a
ready medicine And none other better to calm undue agitation. Apollo
planted this power for himself, they say, The story is worthy to be
sung.

Once a disease most deadly to life assailed the disciples of Apollo's
Mount. It spread far and wide, and attacked the brain itself. Already
all the people of genius were suffering with this Disease; and the arts,
deserted, were languishing along with The workers. Some even pretended
to have the disease, and Assuming feigned suffering, gave themselves
over to an idle life. Unpleasing work grew distasteful, and deadly
inertia increased Everywhere. It pleased all, now released from work and
labors, To indulge in care-free quiet. Apol