ostro fundit aquas, attollit litora gemmis 255 filaque mentitos iamiam caelantia fluctus arte tument: credas inlidi cautibus algam et raucum bibulis inserpere murmur harenis. addit quinque plagas: mediam subtegmine rubro obsessam fervore notat; squalebat inustus 260 limes et adsiduo sitiebant stamina sole. vitales utrimque duas, quas mitis oberrat temperies habitanda viris; in fine supremo torpentes traxit geminas brumaque perenni foedat et aeterno contristat frigore telas. 265 nec non et patrui pingit sacraria Ditis fatalesque sibi Manes; nec defuit omen, praescia nam subitis maduerunt fletibus ora. Coeperat et vitreis summo iam margine texti Oceanum sinuare vadis; sed cardine verso 270 cernit adesse deas imperfectumque laborem deserit et niveos infecit purpura vultus per liquidas succensa genas castaeque pudoris inluxere faces: non sic decus ardet eburnum, Lydia Sidonio quod femina tinxerit ostro. 275 Merserat unda diem; sparso nox umida somno languida caeruleis invexerat otia bigis, iamque viam Pluto superas molitur ad auras germani monitu. torvos invisa iugales Allecto temone ligat, qui pascua mandunt 280 Cocyti pratisque Erebi nigrantibus errant * * * * * Page 313 with purple. The shore she embossed with precious stones and cunningly employed raised threadwork to imitate the swelling billows. You might have thought you saw the seaweed dashed against the rocks and heard the murmur of the hissing waves flooding up the thirsty sands. Five zones she added; indicating that the centre was the torrid zone by embroidering it with red yarn: its desert confines are parched and the thread she used was dried by the sun’s unfailing heat. On either side lay the two habitable zones, blessed with a mild climate fit for the life of man. At the top and bottom she set the two frozen zones, portraying eternal winter’s horror in her weaving and the gloom of never-ceasing cold. Further she embroidered the accursèd seat of her uncle, Dis, and the nether gods, her destined fellows. Nor did the omen pass unmarked, for prophetic of the future her cheeks grew wet with sudden tears. Next she began to trace Ocean’s glassy shallows at the tapestry’s farthest edge, but at that moment the doors opened, she saw the goddesses enter, and left her work unfinished. A glowing blush that mantled to her clear cheeks suffused her fair countenance and lit the torches of stainless purity. Not so beautiful even the glow of ivory which a Lydian maid has stained with Sidon’s scarlet dye.