"Three times shall I petition, and when I come the fourth time, Love will be before the door. Now give me the lyre."
"Eridanus," cried the king, "bring the lyre hither."
Eridanus streamed forth murmuring from his concealment, and Fable snatched the lyre from his boiling flood.
Fable played a few prophetic strains. She sipped from the cup which the king ordered to be handed her, and hastened away with many thanks. She glided with a sweet, elastic motion over the icy sea, drawing joyful music from the strings.
The ice resounded melodiously beneath her step. She fancied the voices of the rocks of sorrow were the voices of her children seeking her, and she answered in a thousand echoes.
Fable soon reached the shore. She met her mother who appeared wasted and pale; she had grown thin and sad, and her noble features revealed the traces of a hopeless sorrow and of touching constancy.
"What has happened to thee, dear mother?" asked Fable; "thou seemest to me entirely changed; I should not know thee except by internal signs. I hoped once more to refresh myself at thy breast; I have pined after thee for a long time."
Ginnistan caressed her tenderly, and became calm and serene.
"I thought from the first," said she, "that the scribe would not take thee captive. It refreshes me to see thee. Poor and pinched are my affairs now; but I console myself with hoping that it will soon end. Perhaps I am about to have a moment of rest. Eros is near; and when he sees thee and thou speakest with him, he may tarry some time. In the mean time come to my bosom. I will give thee what I have."
She took Fable upon her lap, proffered her breast, and while smiling upon the little one who was enjoying her feast, continued, "I am myself the cause that Eros has become so wild and inconstant. But yet I repent it not, for those hours have made me immortal. I believe that his fiery caresses have strangely transformed him. Long, silver-white wings covered his glittering shoulders, and the charming fulness of his form. The strength, which swelling forth had so suddenly changed him from a youth to a man, seemed entirely to have withdrawn into his wings, and he had become again a boy. The silent glow of his face became like the dazzling fire of a will-o'-the-wisp, his holy seriousness had changed to dissembled roguishness, the significant calm to childish irresolution, the noble carriage to a droll agility. I felt irresistibly attracted to the wanton boy by an ardent passion, and suffered with pain his sneering scorn, and his indifference to my most touching prayers. I perceived that my form was changed. My careless serenity had fled, and its place filled with sorrowful anxiety and shrinking timidity. I would have hidden myself with Eros from all eyes. I had not the heart to meet his offending eye, and was overwhelmed with shame and humility. I had no thoughts but for him; and would have given my life to free him from his wantonness. Deeply as he had hurt my feelings, I was compelled to worship him.