Phœbus.
That memory which is nothing but a plain
reproduction on the mirror of the mind is a tame concern, Pallas. It transfers, without modification, all that is dull, and squalid, and unessential. The only memory which is worthy of those who have tasted immortality is that which has in some degree been fortified. To recollect with enjoyment is to select certain salient facts from an experience and to be oblivious of the rest; or else it is to heighten the exciting elements of an event out of all proportion with historic fact; or it even is to place what should be in the seat of what precisely was.... But this must be done firmly, logically, with no timidity in reminiscence, so that the mind shall rest in a perfectly artistic conviction that what it recollects is all the truth and nothing but the truth. This is chastened, or, if you prefer it, civilised memory. But Zeus is about to speak.
[The Gods resume their seats in silence. Zeus rises from his throne, and the Gods perceive that the mist has now almost entirely evaporated around them, and that the entire scene is luminous with morning radiance. All the Gods lean forward to gaze on Zeus, who gazes over and beyond them to the sea.]
Zeus.
The whole bay heaves in one vast wave of unbroken pearl.... And in the east something flashes ... something moves ... approaches.
[All the Gods, except Kronos and Rhea, rise and follow with their gaze the extended hand of Zeus. Poseidon steps forward to the front of the scene and shouts.]
Poseidon.
See! Three huge white ships are coming out of the east, and the waves glide