Thou askest who I am, what is my name, and whence comes this hot and health-giving water that springs perennial? Once I was the loveliest nymph of these woods. Apollo loved me and gave me the power of curing all ills. Fleeter of foot than the stag or the roe, I was the most renowned and the most welcome of the Oread sisters or the Dryads. But we have long known how cruel and potent is fate, and how unstable are all things here below. When wandering one day, bow in hand, my quiver on my shoulder, O unhappy nymph! Cerberus saw me and was inflamed with brutal lust. Of no avail were my bow, my arrows, or my swift feet. Furiously he pursued me and deaf to my prayers and tears he seized me, O unhappy one. In vain I screamed and struggled, and called upon all the Gods of heaven. Almost vanquished I cried out, imploring aid: “O you sylvan nymphs, have mercy, hasten to save me.” The goddesses heard, changed me into a hot stream and thus delivered me from those ferocious hands. As a spring I still preserve the power bestowed by Apollo of curing all ills. Phœbus pitied and wept over my fate, and swore by the Styx to undo thee, O Cerberus. A huge stone, high as a mountain, surrounded by precipices and broken rocks, was torn asunder and a yawning and dark cave opened, whence issued a horrid wind charged with fetid odours. Inside all was putrid, in festering matter lay the entrails and bones of oxen which he bore while yet alive into the cave to satiate his rabid hunger. Whilst intent on devouring the raw flesh and sucking the stream of hot blood, the highborn Archer wounded him. His torn and bleeding entrails gushed forth. But as he could change his form at will, Cerberus became a dog. From three throats came despairing howls and the vapour of burning sulphur when Apollo hurled him down from the rock into deepest hell, where it is rumoured that he still retains the semblance of a dog. There, where the brute sank, remain signs of hell, and they say that sinners are there drawn down to well-deserved punishment. All around are lakes of deep mud; mud and sulphur are belched up, and from afar one still hears the ever-renewed howling of dogs. The rock preserved the name and the mountain whence it fell is called Cerberus. But I remain unknown, no kind Muse remembered me and I waited for one to tell of my woes. Lo he comes, and here he writes a poem for me. Read it, O pilgrim; then thou wilt know that Amorba is the name of the nymph. The waters will drive away all illness, let the sick come here and they will find health.[309] Lorenzo’s great enemy Sixtus IV. died on August 12, 1484, killed, say contemporaries, by a violent fit of anger at the proclamation of the peace of Bagnolo. The Cardinals entered into Conclave on August 26th, and three days later Giovanni Battista Cibò, born at Genoa in 1432, was elected Pope under the name of Innocent VIII.