And she unto Rhea, and into the Ocean’s waves plunged they.
O’er the blessed Titan-gods these twain for a space held sway,
While Zeus as yet was a child, while yet as a child he thought,
And dwelt in the cave Dictaean, while yet the time was not
When the Earth-born Cyclops the thunderbolt’s strength to his hands should give, {510}
Even thunder and lightning: by these doth Zeus his glory receive.
Low murmured the lyre, and slept, and the voice divine was still:
But moveless the heads of them all are bending forward, and thrill
Their eager-listening ears, through the hush as they strain, in thrall
To the spell; such wondrous glamour the song hath cast over all.