... When now the gods had reclined their limbs on the ivory couches, Viands many and rare were heaped on the banqueting tables, Whilst the decrepit Sisters of Fate, their tottering bodies Solemnly swayed, and rehearsed their soothfast vaticination. --Lo, each tremulous frame was wrapped in robe of a whiteness, Down to the ankles that fell, with nethermost border of purple, While on ambrosial brows there rested fillets like snowflakes. They, at a task eternal their hands religiously plying, Held in the left on high, with wool enfolded, a distaff, Delicate fibers wherefrom, drawn down, were shaped by the right hand-- Shaped by fingers upturned,--but the down-turned thumb set a-whirling, Poised with perfected whorl, the industrious shaft of the spindle. Still, as they span, as they span, was the tooth kept nipping and smoothing, And to the withered lip clung morsels of wool as they smoothed it-- Filaments erstwhile rough that stood from the twist of the surface. Close at their feet, meantime, were woven baskets of wicker Guarding the soft white balls of the wool resplendent within them. Thus then, parting the strands, these Three with resonant voices Uttered, in chant divine, predestined sooth of the future-- Prophecy neither in time, nor yet in eternity, shaken. "Thou that exaltest renown of thy name with the name of thy valor, Bulwark Emathian, blest above sires in the offspring of promise, Hear with thine ears this day what oracles fall from the Sisters Chanting the fates for thee;--but you, ye destiny-drawing Spindles, hasten the threads of the destinies set for the future! "Rideth the orb upon high that heralds boon unto bridegrooms-- Hesperus,--cometh anon with star propitious the virgin, Speedeth thy soul to subdue--submerge it with love at the flood tide. Hasten, ye spindles, and run, yea, gallop, ye thread-running spindles! "Erstwhile, never a home hath roofed like generous loving, Never before hath Love conjoinèd lovers so dearly,-- Never with harmony such as endureth for Thetis and Peleus. Hasten, ye spindles, and run, yea, gallop, ye thread-running spindles! "Born unto you shall be the undaunted heart of Achilles, Aye by his brave breast known, unknown by his back to the foeman,-- Victor in onslaught, victor in devious reach of the race-course, Fleeter of foot than feet of the stag that lighten and vanish,-- Hasten, ye spindles, and run, yea, gallop, ye thread-running spindles!"