XXVII. (XLIV.)
Phoenix.
Oceani summo circumfluus aequore lucus
trans Indos Eurumque viret, qui primus anhelis
sollicitatur equis vicinaque verbera sentit,
umida roranti resonant cum limina curru,
shall prove to be the cause, whatever the origin, of this we may be sure—that thou flowest not without design. Who would dare to ascribe such a miracle to chance? Who could deny that the overruling gods have so ordained? Nature’s lord, who measures the centuries by the stars, has given thee a place of honour among the works of his divinity, and, pitying the feebleness of our human bodies, has bidden pour forth healing waters for the earth, and from the riven hills burst forth streams that should win pardon from the Fates’ relentless distaffs.
Happy ye whose lot it is to dwell by those banks and to possess Aponus for your own; you no plague of earth, no pestilence-fraught winds of the south, nor Sirius with his cruel fires can harm. Should Lachesis’ fatal thread threaten death men find in thee a more propitious fate. If it chance that noxious humours swell their limbs or that excess of bile inflames their ailing bowels they need not to open their veins nor to cure one wound with another nor yet to drink medicine of bitter herbs. By thy water’s aid they renew their lost strength without suffering; ’mid luxury the sick find relief from pain.
XXVII. (XLIV.)