the choir of Phoebus rose to greet him; howthe shepherd Linus, singer of songs divine,brow-bound with flowers and bitter parsley, spake:“These reeds the Muses give thee, take them thou,erst to the aged bard of Ascra given,wherewith in singing he was wont to drawtime-rooted ash-trees from the mountain heights.With these the birth of the Grynean grovebe voiced by thee, that of no grove besideapollo more may boast him.” Wherefore speakof Scylla, child of Nisus, who, 'tis said,her fair white loins with barking monsters girtvexed the Dulichian ships, and, in the deepswift-eddying whirlpool, with her sea-dogs torethe trembling mariners? or how he toldof the changed limbs of Tereus—what a feast,what gifts, to him by Philomel were given;how swift she sought the desert, with what wingshovered in anguish o'er her ancient home?All that, of old, Eurotas, happy stream,