… Apollo, the far-shooting god with the broad quiver,
once came upon her as she was wrestling with
a mighty lion, alone and unarmed.
At once he called Cheiron from his halls and said,
“Come forth from your sacred cave, son of Philyra,
and marvel at this woman’s courage and great power
and at what a fight she is waging with unflinching head,
a girls whose heart is superior to toil
and whose mind remains unshaken by storms of fear.
What mortal bore her? From what stock has she been severed

that she lives in the glens of the shadowy mountains
and puts to the test her unbounded valor?
Is it right to lay my famous hand upon her
and indeed to reap the honey-sweet
flower from the bed of love?
The high-spirited Centaur smiled warmly
with his gentle brow and at once answered him
with his advice: “Hidden are the keys to sacred
lovemaking that belong to wise Persuasion,
Phoebus, and both gods and humans alike
shy from engaging openly for the first time
in sweet love.

And so your amorous impulse prompted you,
for whom it is not right to touch upon a lie, to make
that misleading speech. Do you ask form where
the girl’s lineages comes, O lord? And yet you know
the appointed end of all things and all the ways to them,
and how many leaves the earth puts forth in spring,
and how many grains of sand in the sea and rivers
are beated by the waves and blasts of wind,
and what will happen and whence
it will comes — all this you discern clearly.
But if I must match wits with one who is wise,

I will speak. You have come to this glen to be her
husband, and you are about to take her over the sea
to the finest garden of Zeus,
where you will make her ruler of a city, after gathering
an island people to the hill on the plan.
But as for now, Libya, mistress of broad meadows,
will welcome your famous bride in her golden palace
with gladness, and there at once she will grant her
a portion of land to hold as her lawful possession,
one neither devoid of plants rich in every fruit,
nor unacquainted with wild animals.

There she will give birth to a son, whom famous Hermes
will take from under his mother and bear
to the fair-throned Horai and to Gaia.
And when they behold the infant on their knees,
they shall drip nectar and ambrosia on his lips
and shall make him immortal,
a Zeus or a holy Apollo, a delight to men dear to him
and ever-near guardian of flocks,
called Agreus and Nomios by some, Aristaios by others.”
Thus he spoke and encouraged him to consummate
the sweet fulfillment of marriage. …

— translation by W.H. Race, Loeb