might in the other soothe the sense Of misery? Hath mighty Proserpine Sent but an empty shade to meet me here, That I might only grieve and sigh the more?’
“I spake, and then my reverend mother said:— ‘Believe not that Jove’s daughter Proserpine Deceives thee. ’Tis the lot of all our race When they are dead. No more the sinews bind The bones and flesh, when once from the white bones The life departs. Then like a dream the soul Flies off, and flits about from place to place. But haste thou to the light again, and mark What I have said, that thou in after days Mayst tell it to thy wife on thy return.’
“Thus we conferred. Meantime the women came Around me, moved by mighty Proserpine; In throngs they gathered to the dark red blood. Then, as I pondered how to question each, This seemed the wisest—from my sturdy thigh I plucked the trenchant sword, and suffered not All that were there to taste the blood at once; So one by one they came, and each in turn Declared her lineage. Thus I questioned all.
“Then saw I highborn Tyro first, who claimed To be the daughter of that blameless man Salmoneus, and who called herself the wife Of Cretheus, son of Aeolus. She loved Enipeus, hallowed river, fairest stream Of all that flow on earth, and often walked Beside its pleasant waters. He whose arms Surround the islands, Neptune, once put on The river’s form, and at its gulfy mouth Met her; the purple waters stood upright Around them like a wall, and formed an arch, And hid the god and woman. There he loosed The virgin zone of Tyro, shedding sleep Upon her. Afterward he took her hand And said: > ‘Rejoice, O maiden, in our love, For with the year’s return shalt thou bring forth Illustrious sons; the embraces of