The ass halts. The saddle-cloth is removed. Underneath appears a second covering of black felt. Then one of the men in white tunics begins to dance, rattling his crotali;—another, kneeling before the box, beats a tambourine and—)
The Oldest of the Band, begins:—
"Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains, the Great Mother of Syria! Come ye hither, good people all!
Here is the Good Goddess, the Idæan of the mountains
"She gives joy to men, she heals the sick; she sends inheritances; she satisfies the hunger of love!
"We bear her through the land, rain or shine, in fair weather, or in foul.
"Oft times we lie in the open air, and our table is not always well served. Robbers dwell in the woods. Wild beasts rush from their caverns. Slippery paths border the precipices. Behold her! behold her!"