the waggon-furrowed way, and about their shoulders their curls, like unto the crocus flower, sported. And near the way they found the renowned goddess, where they had left her before. But then they led her to the dwelling of their sire, and she, sorrowing at heart, followed behind them, with her head veiled, and the dark robe shook loosely around the tender feet of the goddess. And quickly they reached the house of Jove-nurtured Celeus, and went through the portico, where their hallowed mother awaited them by the lintel of the well-built tenement, having her son, a young off-shoot, at her bosom. But they ran up to her, and she came to the threshold on her feet, and truly she reached the top of the dwelling, and filled the doors with divine light. But admiration, and wonder, and pallid fear possessed her, and she yielded up her seat, and bade her be seated. But season-bearing Ceres, of glorious gifts, was not willing to be seated on the shining seat, but she remained silent, casting down her beauteous eyes, until at length Iambe, knowing prudent things, offered her a compact seat, and above it spread a silver-woven fleece. Here sitting down, she stretched forth her veil [over her face] with her hands, and for a long time sat speechless, grieving, in her seat, nor did she apply herself to any word or deed, but without a smile, unfed or by food or drink, she sat, wasting away with longing for her deep-bosomed daughter; until that Iambe, knowing prudent things, much joking her with banterings, turned the hallowed, holy [goddess] to smile, and to laugh, and to have an appeased mind. Here, in after-times also, she pleased her with orgies. And to her Metaneira gave a cup of sweet wine, having filled it; but she refused it, "for," said she, "it was not lawful for her to drink the ruby wine;" but she bade her, having mixed wheat and water with pounded pennyroyal, give it her to drink. But she, having made the mixture, gave it to the goddess, as she commanded, and all-hallowed Ceres, having received it, obtained[1] the sacred honour. But to them well-girt Metaneira began discourse:
"Hail! lady, since I deem that thou art not from mean parents, but good ones, since modesty and grace are conspicuous in thy countenance, like as [among the descendants] of law-administering kings. But we men must needs endure the lot given by the gods, although grieving; for the yoke lies
- ↑ I read ὁσίης ἐπέβη, with Voss.
