ce of her, . . . save the
daughter of Persaeus, Hecate of the shining head-tire, as she was
thinking delicate thoughts, who heard the cry from her cave [and Prince
Helios, the glorious son of Hyperion], the maiden calling on Father
Cronides. But he far off sat apart from the gods in his temple haunted
by prayers, receiving goodly victims from mortal men. By the design of
Zeus did the brother of Zeus lead the maiden away, the lord of many, the
host of many guests, with his deathless horses; right sore against her
will, even he of many names the son of Cronos. Now, so long as the
Goddess beheld the earth, and the starry heaven, and the tide of the
teeming sea, and the rays of the sun, and still hoped to behold her
mother dear, and the tribes of the eternal gods; even so long, despite
her sorrow, hope warmed her high heart; then rang the mountain peaks, and
the depths of the sea to her immortal voice, and her lady mother heard
her. Then sharp pain caught at her heart, and with her hands she tore
the wimple about her ambrosial hair, and cast a dark veil about her
shoulders, and then sped she like a bird over land and sea in her great
yearning; but to her there was none that would tell the truth, none,
either of Gods, or deathly men, nor even a bird came nigh her, a
soothsaying messenger. Thereafter for nine days did Lady Deo roam the
earth, with torches burning in her hands, nor ever in her sorrow tasted
she of ambrosia and sweet nectar, nor laved her body in the baths. But
when at last the tenth morn came to her with the light, Hecate met her, a
torch in her hands, and spake a word of tidings, and said:

"Lady Demeter, thou that bringest the Seasons, thou giver of glad gifts,
which of the heavenly gods or deathly men hath ravished away Persephone,
and brought thee sorrow: for I heard a voice but I saw not who the
ravisher might be? All this I say to thee for sooth."

So spake Hecate, and the daughter of fair-tressed Rheie answered her not,
but swiftly rushed on with her, bearing torches burning in her hands. So
came they to Helios that watches both for gods and men, and stood before
his car, and the lady Goddess questioned him:

"Helios, be pitiful on me that am a goddess, if ever by word or deed I
gladdened thy heart. My daughter, whom I bore, a sweet plant and fair to
see; it was her shrill voice I heard through the air unharvested, even as
of one violently entreated, but I saw her not with my eyes. But do tho