Dryope and Iole were sisters. The former was the wife of Andræmon,
beloved by her husband, and happy in the birth of her first child. One
day the sisters strolled to the bank of a stream that sloped gradually
down to the water’s edge, while the upland was overgrown with myrtles.
They were intending to gather flowers for forming garlands for the
altars of the nymphs, and Dryope carried her child at her bosom,
precious burden, and nursed him as she walked. Near the water grew a
lotus plant, full of purple flowers. Dryope gathered some and offered
them to the baby, and Iole was about to do the same, when she perceived
blood dropping from the places where her sister had broken them off the
stem. The plant was no other than the nymph Lotis, who, running from a
base pursuer, had been changed into this form. This they learned from
the country people when it was too late.
Dryope, horror-struck when she perceived what she had done, would gladly
have hastened from the spot, but found her feet rooted to the ground.
She tried to pull them away, but moved nothing but her upper limbs. The
woodiness crept upward, and by degrees invested her body. In anguish she
attempted to tear her hair, but found her hands filled with leaves. The
infant felt his mother’s bosom begin to harden, and the milk cease to
flow. Iole looked on at the sad fate of her sister, and could render no
assistance. She embraced the growing trunk, as if she would hold back
the advancing wood, and would gladly have been enveloped in the same
bark. At this moment Andræmon, the husband of Dryope, with her father,
approached; and when they asked for Dryope, Iole pointed them to the
new-formed lotus. They embraced the trunk of the yet warm tree, and
showered their kisses on its leaves.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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