And sees the secret source of subterranean floods; And where, distinguished in their several cells, The fount of Phasis, and of Lycus, dwells; Where swift Enipeus in his bed appears, And Tyber his majestic forehead rears; Whence Anio flows, and Hypanis profound Breaks through the opposing rocks with raging sound; Where Po first issues from his dark abodes, And, awful in his cradle, rules the floods: Two golden horns on his large front he wears, And his grim face a bull's resemblance bears; With rapid course he seeks the sacred main, And fattens, as he runs, the fruitful plain. Now, to the court arrived, the admiring son Beholds the vaulted roofs of pory stone, Now to his mother goddess tells his grief, Which she with pity hears, and promises relief. The officious nymphs, attending in a ring, With waters drawn from their perpetual spring, From earthly dregs his body purify, And rub his temples, with fine towels, dry; Then load the tables with a liberal feast, And honour with full bowls their friendly guest. The sacred altars are involved in smoke; And the bright choir their kindred gods invoke. Two bowls the mother fills with Lydian wine; } Then thus: "Let these be poured, with rites divine, } To the great authors of our watery line-- } To father Ocean, this; and this," she said, } "Be to the nymphs his sacred sisters paid, } Who rule the watery plains, and hold the woodland shade." } She sprinkled thrice, with wine, the Vestal fire; Thrice to the vaulted roof the flames aspire. Raised with so blest an omen, she begun, With words, like these, to cheer her drooping son:-- "In the Carpathian bottom, makes abode The shepherd of the seas, a prophet and a god. High o'er the main in watery pomp he rides, His azure car and finny coursers guides-- Proteus his name.--To his Pallenian port I see from far the weary god resort. Him not alone we river gods adore, But aged Nereus hearkens to his lore. With sure foresight, and with unerring doom, He sees what is, and was, and is to come. This Neptune gave him, when he gave to keep His scaly flocks, that graze the watery deep. Implore his aid; for Proteus only knows The secret cause, and cure, of all thy woes. But first the wily wizard must be caught; } For, unconstrained, he nothing tells for nought; } Nor is with prayers, or bribes, or flattery bought. } Surprise him first, and with hard fetters bind; Then all his frauds will vanish into wind. I will myself conduct thee on thy way: When next the southing sun inflames the day, When the dry herbage thirsts for dews in vain, And sheep, in shades, avoid the parching plain; Then will I lead thee to his secret seat, } When, weary with his toil, and scorched with heat, }