(From Metamorphoses)

Translated by H. King


LAPPED in Thessalia’s forest-mantled hills

Lies the fair vale of Tempe: down the gorge,

O’ercanopied with groves, old Peneus rolls

From Pindus’ foot his waters to the sea,

Wreathing the woods with mist of silvery spray,

And resonant, through many a league around,

With many a fall. There, in the caverned rock

That makes his palace-home, the River-God

Sits sovereign o’er the stream that bears his name

And all its haunting nymphs. And thither throng

The brother-powers of all the neighbor-floods,

Doubtful or to congratulate or condole

The parent’s hap: Spercheüs, poplar-crowned,—

Enipeus turbulent, Apidonus

Hoary with age, and smooth Amphrysus came,

And Æas, and the rest, that lead their waves,

Weary with many wanderings, to the sea.