To wake and watch All night is most unwholesome. Thou shalt find A happy issue from thy troubles yet.”
She spake, and, shedding slumber on his lids, Upward the glorious goddess took her way Back to Olympus, when she saw that sleep Had seized him, making him forget all care And slackening every limb. His faithful wife Was still awake, and sat upright and wept On her soft couch, and after many tears The glorious lady prayed to Dian thus:—
“Goddess august! Diana, child of Jove! I would that thou wouldst send into my heart A shaft to take my life, or that a storm Would seize and hurl me through the paths of air, And cast me into ocean’s restless streams, As once a storm, descending, swept away The daughters born to Pandarus.
The gods Had slain their parents, and they dwelt alone As orphans in their palace, nourished there By blessed Venus with the curds of milk, And honey, and sweet wine, while Juno gave Beauty and wit beyond all womankind, And chaste Diana dignity of form, And Pallas every art that graces life.
Then, as the blessed Venus went to ask For them, of Jove the Thunderer, on the heights Of his Olympian mount, the crowning gift Of happy marriage—for to Jove is known Whatever comes to pass, and what shall be The fortune, good or ill, of mortal men— The Harpies came meantime, bore off the maids, And gave them to the hateful sisterhood Of Furies as their servants.
So may those Who dwell upon Olympus make an end Of me, or fair-haired Dian strike me down, That, with the image of Ulysses still Before my mind, I may not seek to please One of less worth. This evil might be borne By one who weeps all day, and feels at heart A settled sorrow, yet can sleep at night.