"When like a Mänad on a mountain shady, The mother sprang to clasp her child again, Crying: “My child, my blossom, fair as May-day, “If foodless yet those lovely lips remain, “Honoured by all the Immortals thou shalt be, “Throned with thy sire of clouds and throned with me.“Or else to dwell in the grey earth’s recesses, “The year’s dark wintry third must be thy doom, “The rest shall leave thee to my glad caresses, “With light and deity for grief and gloom; “For when the vernal earth her green lap dresses, “With odorous buds and flowers of various bloom, “Forth from the darkness dense as stormy skies “Wonder of Gods and men shalt thou arise.“But tell me by what unimagined wile “The world’s dread Host beguiled thee.” “Mother dear,” Answered Persephone with lovely smile, “Hear thou the simple truth. When from the sphere “Where dwell the Gods in their high domicile, “Came herald Hermes, out of darkness drear “To bring thy child, that thou beholding me “Might calm thy wrath with Heaven and peaceful be,“Up with delight I sprang, but (undescried) “A sweet pomegranate seed, as honey pleasant “King Hades threw me, and for all my pride “I ate, compelled to take that fatal present; “But how he bore me a reluctant bride “Beneath the cavern’d earth and moon’s pale crescent, “Aided by subtle art of my great sire, “Will I, dear mother, tell at thy desire.”"