"'Of the gods we count the Sun and Bacchus among our ancestors; of the heroes, Perseus, Andromeda, and Memnon. Our kings, at various times, have adorned the royal apartments with pictures of them and their exploits; some ornamented the porticoes and men's apartments: our bed-chamber was painted with the story of Perseus and Andromeda. There, in the tenth year after our marriage, when as yet we had no child, I retired to repose myself during the scorching heat of noon; and here your father, Hydaspes, visited me, being warned to do so by a dream. In consequence of this visit I became pregnant. The whole time of my pregnancy was a continual feast, a course of sacrifices and thanksgivings to the gods, for the near prospect, long wished for, of a successor to the kingdom.[7] But when at last I brought you forth, a white infant, so different from the Ethiopian hue, I was at no loss to explain the cause, since, in the embraces of your father,[8] I had kept my eyes fixed on the picture of Andromeda, whom the painter had represented just unchained from the rock, and my imagination had communicated her complexion to my unhappy offspring. But this, though satisfactory to me, might not have been so to any one else. I dreaded the being accused of adultery, and the punishment which awaits that crime: I committed you, therefore, to the wide world and to fortune. I thought this better even for you than death, or the disgrace of being called a bastard, one of which fates must have awaited you had I preserved you at home. I told my husband that my child was dead, and exposed you privately, placing as many valuables with you as I could collect, by way of reward for whoever should find and bring you up. Among other ornaments I put this fillet upon you, stained with my own blood and containing this melancholy account, which I have traced out in the midst of tears and sorrows, when I first brought you into the world, and was overwhelmed with grief and consternation. And, oh my sweet, yet soon lost daughter, if you should survive, remember the noble race from which you spring; honour and cultivate virtue and modesty, the chief recommendations of a woman, and ornaments of a queen. But, among the jewels which are exposed with you, remember to inquire after, and claim for yourself a ring which your father gave me when he sought me in marriage. The circle of it is inscribed with royal characters, and in its bezil[9] the stone Pantarbè, which possesses occult and powerful virtue. I have given you this account in writing, since cruel fortune denies me the happiness of doing it in person; my pains may have been taken to no purpose, but they may be of use to you; the designs of fate are inscrutable by mortals. These words (oh vainly beautiful, and bringing, by your beauty, an imputation on her who bore you), if you should be preserved, may serve as a token to discover your race; if otherwise (which may I never