Page:Pindar and Anacreon.djvu/117

Rh

No falsehood mocks his piercing sight,

Nor gods nor men elude the skill

Which judges in prophetic light

The open act, the secret will.

Then having known the fraud that led

The nymph to Ischys' foreign bed,

His sister fierce with dire intent

To Laceræa straight he sent.

The maid whose habitation rose

Where marshy Bœbias' fountain flows,

Too soon her alter'd demon drove

The ills that wait on crime to prove.

When by the cruel plague pursued

Her sin the guiltless neighbours rued—

Sad victims of a common tomb—

As from one fatal spark arise

The flames aspiring to the skies,

And all the crackling wood consume.