The proffered bed of Jove; but hie thee straight
To Lerne’s bosomed mead,[n42] where are the sheep-folds
And ox-stalls of thy sire, that so the eye
Of Jove, being filled with thee, may cease from craving.”
Such nightly dreams my restless couch possessed
Till I, all tears, did force me to unfold
The portent to my father. He to Pytho[f13]
Sent frequent messengers, and to Dodona,
Searching the pleasure of the gods; but they
With various-woven phrase came back, and answers