“Iam non ulterius Phrygia tellure morabor,
sancta parens: revocat tandem custodia cari 115
pignoris et cunctis obiecti fraudibus anni.
grain. When, therefore, she was at last able to recognize her daughter, albeit with doubtful gaze, she cried: “What crime hath merited these many punishments? Whence comes this dreadful wasting away? Who hath power to wreak such cruelty upon me? How have thy soft arms deserved fetters of stubborn iron, scarce fitted for beasts? Art thou my daughter or does a vain shadow deceive me?”
Thus she answered: “Cruel mother, forgetful of thy daughter’s fate, more hard of heart than the tawny lioness! Could’st thou be so heedless of me? Didst thou hold me cheap for that I am thy sole daughter? Dear indeed to thee must be the name of Proserpine who now, shut in this vast cavern, as thou seest, am plagued with torment! Hast thou heart to dance, cruel mother? Canst thou revel through the cities of Phrygia? If thou hast not banished the mother from thy breast, if thou, Ceres, art really my mother and ’twas no Hyrcanian tiger gave me birth, save me, I pray thee, from this prison and restore me to the upper world. If the fates forbid my return come thou down at least and visit me.”
So spake she and strove to hold out her trembling hands. The iron’s ruthless strength forbade it, and the clangour of the chains awoke her sleeping mother. Ceres lay stiff with terror at the vision, rejoices that it was not true, but grieves that she cannot embrace her daughter. Maddened with fear she rushes out of the cavern and thus addresses Cybele: “No longer now will I tarry in the land of Phrygia, holy mother; the duty of protecting my dear daughter calls me back after so long an absence, for she is of an age that is exposed to many dangers. I put not
nec mihi Cyclopum quamvis extructa caminis
culmina fida satis. timeo ne fama latebras