en unequal harbors.

"There is a stream in the middle, between Cyane and the Pisaean Arethusa,
which is confined within itself, being enclosed by mountain ridges at a
short distance {from each other}. Here was Cyane,[54] the most
celebrated among the Sicilian Nymphs, from whose name the pool also was
called, who stood up from out of the midst of the water, as far as the
higher part of her stomach, and recognized the God, and said, 'No
further shall you go. Thou mayst not be the son-in-law of Ceres against
her will. {The girl} should have been asked {of her mother}, not carried
away. But if I may be allowed to compare little matters with great ones,
Anapis[55] also loved me. Yet I married him, courted, and not frightened
{into it}, like her.' She {thus} said, and stretching her arms on
different sides, she stood in his way. The son of Saturn no longer
restrained his rage; and encouraging his terrible steeds, he threw his
royal sceptre, hurled with a strong arm, into the lowest depths of the
stream. The earth, {thus} struck, made a way down to Tartarus, and
received the descending chariot in the middle of the yawning space. But
Cyane, lamenting both the ravished Goddess, and the slighted privileges
of her spring, carries in her silent mind an inconsolable wound, and is
entirely dissolved into tears, and melts away into those waters, of
which she had been but lately the great guardian Divinity. You might see
her limbs soften, her bones become subjected to bending, her nails lay
aside their hardness: each, too, of the smaller extremities of the whole
of her body melts away; both her azure hair, her fingers, her legs, and
her feet; for easy is the change of those small members into a cold
stream. After that, her back, her shoulders, her side, and her breast
dissolve, vanishing into thin rivulets. Lastly, pure water, instead of
live blood, enters her corrupted veins, and nothing remains which you
can grasp {in your hand}.

"In the mean time, throughout all lands and in every sea, the daughter
is sought in vain by her anxious mother. Aurora, coming with her ruddy
locks does not behold her taking any rest, neither does Hesperus. She,
with her two hands, sets light to some pines at the flaming AEtna, and
giving herself no rest, bears them through the frosty darkness. Again,
when the genial day has dulled the light of the stars, she seeks her
daughter from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof. Fatigued by
the labor, she