§ 1  I Doris, Galatea.
DOR: A handsome lover, Galatea, this Sicilian shepherd who they say is so mad for you!
GAL: Don't be sarcastic, Doris; he is Poseidon's son, after all.
DOR: Well, and if he were Zeus's, and still such a wild shaggy creature, with only one eye (there is nothing uglier than to have only one eye), do you think his birth would improve his beauty?
GAL: Shagginess and wildness, as you call them, are not ugly in a man; and his eye looks very well in the middle of his forehead, and sees just as well as if it were two.
DOR: Why, my dear, from your raptures about him one would think it was you that were in love, not he.
GAL: Oh no, I am not in love; but it is too bad, your all running him down as you do. It is my belief you are jealous, Do you remember? we were playing on the shore at the foot of Etna, where the long strip of beach comes between the mountain and the sea; he was feeding his sheep, and spied us from above; yes, but he never so much as glanced at the rest of you; I was the pretty one; he was all eyes — eye, I mean — for me. That is what makes you spiteful, because it showed I was better than you, good enough to be loved, while you were taken no notice of.
DOR: Hoity-toity! jealous indeed! because a one-eyed shepherd thinks you pretty! Why, what could he see in you but your white skin? and he only cared for that because it reminded him of cheese and milk; he thinks everything pretty that is like them. If you want to know any more than that about your looks, sit on a rock when it is calm, and lean over the water; just a bit of white skin, that is all; and who cares for that, if it is not picked out with some red?
GAL: Well, if I am all white, I have got a lover of some sort; there is not a shepherd or a sailor or a boatman to care for any of you. Besides, Polyphemus is very musical.
DOR: Take care, dear; we heard him singing the other day when he serenaded you. Heavens! one would have taken him for an ass braying. And his lyre! what a thing! A stag's skull, with its horns for the uprights; he put a bar across, and fastened on the strings without any tuning-pegs! then came the performance, all harsh and out of tune; he shouted something himself, and the lyre played something else, and the love ditty sent us into fits of laughter. Why, Echo, chatterbox that she is, would not answer him; she was ashamed to be caught mimicking such a rough ridiculous song. Oh, and the pet that your beau brought you in his arms! — a bear cub nearly as shaggy as himself. Now then, Galatea, do you still think we envy you your lover?
GAL: Well, Doris, only show us your own; no doubt he is much handsomer, and sings and plays far better.
DOR: Oh, I have not got one; I do not set up to be lovely. But one like the Cyclops — faugh, he might be one of his own goats! — he eats raw meat, they say, and feeds on travellers — one like him, dear, you may keep; I wish you nothing worse than to return his love.

§ 2  Poseidon. Alpheus
POS: What is the meaning of this, Alpheus? unlike others, when you take your plunge you do not mingle with the brine as a river should; you do not put an end to your labours by dispersing; you hold together through the sea, keep your current fresh, and hurry along in all your original purity; you dive down to strange depths like a gull or a heron; I suppose you will come to the top again and show yourself somewhere or other.
AL: Do not press me, Poseidon; a love affair; and many is the time you have been in love yourself.
POSEID: Woman, nymph, or Nereid?
AL: All wrong; she is a fountain.
POSEID: A fountain? and where does she flow?
AL: She is an islander — in Sicily. Her name is Arethusa.
POSEID: Ah, I commend your taste. She is pellucid, and bubbles up in perfect purity; the water as bright over her pebbles as if it were a mass of silver.
AL: You know my fountain, Poseidon, and no mistake. It is to her that I go.
POSEID: Go, then; and may the course of love run smooth! But pray where did you meet her? Arcadia and Syracuse, you know!
AL: I am in a hurry; you are detaining me, with these superfluous questions.
POSEID: Ah, so I am. Be off to your beloved, rise from the sea, mingle your channels and be one water.

§ 6  VI Triton, Poseidon, Amymone. Triton: Poseidon, there is such a pretty girl coming to Lerna for water every day; I don't know that I ever saw a prettier.
POSEID: What is she, a lady? or a mere water-carrier?
TRITON: Oh no; she is one of the fifty daughters of that Egyptian king. Her name is Amymone; I asked about that and her family. Danaus understands discipline; he is bringing them up to do everything for themselves; they have to fetch water, and make themselves generally useful.
POSEID: And does she come all that way by herself, from Argos to Lerna?
TRI: Yes; and Argos, you know, is a thirsty place; she is always having to get water.
POSEID: Triton, this is most exciting. We must go and see her.
TRITON: Very well. It is just her time now; I reckon she will be about half-way to Lerna.
POSEID: Bring out the chariot, then. Or no; it takes such a time getting it ready, and putting the horses to. Just fetch me out a good fast dolphin; that will be quickest.
TRITON: Here is a racer for you.
POSEID: Good; now let us be off. You swim alongside. — Here we are at Lerna. I'll lie in ambush hereabouts; and you keep a look-out. When you see her coming — TRI: Here she comes.
POSEID: A charming child; the dawn of loveliness. We must carry her off.
AM: Villain! where are you taking me to? You are a kidnapper. I know who sent you — my uncle Egyptus. I shall call my father.
TRI: Hush, Amymone; it is Poseidon.
AM: Poseidon? What do you mean? Unhand me, villain! would you drag me into the sea? Help, help, I shall sink and be drowned.
POSEID: Don't be frightened; no harm shall be done to you. Come, you shall have a fountain called after you; it shall spring up in this very place, near the waves; I will strike the rock with my trident. — Think how nice it will be being dead, and not having to carry water any more, like all your sisters.

§ 7  VIII (Poseidon, Dolphins)
POSEID: Well done, Dolphins! — humane as ever. Not content with your former exploit, when Ino leapt with Melicertes from the Scironian cliff, and you picked the boy up and conveyed him to the Isthmus, one of you swims from Methymna to Taenarum with this musician on his back, mantle and lyre and all. Those sailors had almost had their wicked will of him; but you were not going to stand that.
DOL: You need not be surprised to find us doing a good turn to a man, Poseidon; we were men before we were fishes.
POSEID: Yes; I think it was too bad of Dionysus to celebrate his victory by such a transformation scene; he might have been content with adding you to the roll of his subjects. — Well, Dolphin, tell me all about Arion.
DOL: From what I can gather, Periander was very fond of him, and was always sending for him to perform; till Arion grew quite rich at his expense, and thought he would take a trip to Methymna, and show off his wealth at home. He took ship accordingly; but it was with a crew of rogues. He had made no secret of the gold and silver he had with him; and when they were in mid Aegean, the sailors rose against him. As I was swimming alongside, I heard all that went on. 'Since your minds are made up,' says Arion, 'at least let me get my mantle on, and sing my own dirge; and then I will throw myself into the sea of my own accord.' — The sailors agreed. He threw his minstrel's cloak about him, and sang a most sweet melody; and then he let himself drop into the water, never doubting but that his last moment had come. But I caught him up on my back, and swam to shore with him at Taenarum.
POSEID: I am glad to find you a patron of the arts. This was handsome pay for a song.

§ 9  IX (Poseidon, Amphitrite and other Nereids)
Pos: The strait where the child fell shall be called Hellespont after her. And as for her body, you Nereids shall take it to the Troad to be buried by the inhabitants.
AMPH: Oh no, Poseidon. Let her grave be the sea which bears her name. We are so sorry for her; that step-mother's treatment of her was shocking.
POSEID: No, my dear, that may not be. And indeed it is not desirable that she should lie here under the sand; her grave shall be in the Troad, as I said, or in the Chersonese. It will be no small consolation to her that Ino will have the same fate before long. She will be chased by Athamas from the top of Cithaeron down the ridge which runs into the sea, and there plunge in with her son in her arms. But her we must rescue, to please Dionysus; Ino was his nurse and suckled him, you know.
AMPH: Rescue a wicked creature like her?
POSEID: Well, we do not want to disoblige Dionysus. Nereid. I wonder what made the poor child fall off the ram; her brother Phrixus held on all right.
POSEID: Of course he did; a lusty youth equal to the flight; but it was all too strange for her; sitting on that queer mount, looking down on yawning space, terrified, overpowered by the heat, giddy with the speed, she lost her hold on the ram's horns, and down she came into the sea. Nereid. Surely her mother Nephele should have broken her fall.
POSEID: I dare say; but Fate is a great deal too strong for Nephele.

§ 10  X (Iris. Poseidon)
IRIS: Poseidon, you know that floating island, that was torn away from Sicily, and is still drifting about under water; you are to bring it to the surface, Zeus says, and fix it well in view in the middle of the Aegean; and mind it is properly secured; he has a use for it.
POSEID: Very good. And when I have got it up, and anchored it, what is he going to do with it?
IRIS: Leto is to lie in there; her time is near.
POSEID: And is there no room in Heaven? Or is Earth too small to hold her children?
IRIS: Ah, you see, Hera has bound the Earth by a great oath not to give shelter to Leto in her travail. This island, however, being out of sight, has not committed itself.
POSEID: I see. — Island, be still! Rise once more from the depths; and this time there must be no sinking. Henceforth you are terra firma; it will be your happiness to receive my brother's twin children, fairest of the Gods. — Tritons, you will have to convey Leto across. Let all be calm. — As to that serpent who is frightening her out of her senses, wait till these children are born; they will soon avenge their mother. — You can tell Zeus that all is ready. Delos stands firm: Leto has only to come.

§ 12  XII Doris. Thetis
DORIS: Crying, dear? The: Oh, Doris, I have just seen a lovely girl thrown into a chest by her father, and her little baby with her; and he gave the chest to some sailors, and told them, as soon as they were far enough from the shore, to drop it into the water; he meant them to be drowned, poor things.
DORIS: Oh, sister, but why? What was it all about? Did you hear?
THE: Her father, Acrisius, wanted to keep her from marrying. And, as she was so pretty, he shut her up in an iron room. And — I don't know whether it's true — but they say that Zeus turned himself into gold, and came showering down through the roof, and she caught the gold in her lap, — and it was Zeus all the time. And then her father found out about it — he is a horrid, jealous old man — and he was furious, and thought she had been receiving a lover; and he put her into the chest, the moment the child was born.
DORIS: And what did she do then?
THE: She never said a word against her own sentence; she was ready to submit: but she pleaded hard for the child's life, and cried, and held him up for his grandfather to see; and there was the sweet babe, that thought no harm, smiling at the waves. I am beginning again, at the mere remembrance of it.
DORIS: You make me cry, too. And is it all over?
THE: No; the chest has carried them safely so far; it is by Seriphos.
DORIS: Then why should we not save them? We can put the chest into those fishermen's nets, look; and then of course they will be hauled in, and come safe to shore.
THE: The very thing. She shall not die; nor the child, sweet treasure!

§ 15  XV West Wind, South Wind
WEST: Such a splendid pageant I never saw on the waves, since the day I first blew. You were not there, Notus?
SOUTH: Pageant, Zephyr? what pageant? and whose?
WEST: You missed a most ravishing spectacle; such another chance you are not likely to have.
SOUTH: I was busy with the Red Sea; and I gave the Indian coasts a little airing too. So I don't know what you are talking about.
WEST: Well, you know Agenor the Sidonian?
SOUTH: Europa's father? what of him?
WEST: Europa it is that I am going to tell you about.
SOUTH: You need not tell me that Zeus has been in love with her this long while; that is stale news.
WEST: We can pass the love, then, and get on to the sequel. Europa had come down for a frolic on the beach with her playfellows. Zeus transformed himself into a bull, and joined the game. A fine sight he was — spotless white skin, crumpled horns, and gentle eyes. He gambolled on the shore with them, bellowing most musically, till Europa took heart of grace and mounted him. No sooner had she done it than, with her on his back, Zeus made off at a run for the sea, plunged in, and began swimming; she was dreadfully frightened, but kept her seat by clinging to one of his horns with her left hand, while the right held her skirt down against the puffs of wind.
SOUTH: A lovely sight indeed, Zephyr, in every sense — Zeus swimming with his darling on his back.
WEST: Ay, but what followed was lovelier far. Every wave fell; the sea donned her robe of peace to speed them on their way; we winds made holiday and joined the train, all eyes; fluttering Loves skimmed the waves, just dipping now and again a heedless toe — in their hands lighted torches, on their lips the nuptial song; up floated Nereids — few but were prodigal of naked charms — and clapped their hands, and kept pace on dolphin steeds; the Triton company, with every sea-creature that frights not the eye, tripped it around the maid; for Poseidon on his car, with Amphitrite by him, led them in festal mood, ushering his brother through the waves. But, crowning all, a Triton pair bore Aphrodite, reclined on a shell, heaping the bride with all flowers that blow. So went it from Phoenice even to Crete. But, when he set foot on the isle, behold, the bull was no more; 'twas Zeus that took Europa's hand and led her to the Dictaean Cave — blushing and downward-eyed; for she knew now the end of her bringing. But we plunged this way and that, and roused the still seas anew.
SOUTH: Ah me, what sights of bliss! and I was looking at griffins, and elephants, and blackamoors!