Now day presses down the stars and Titan rolls his dripping steeds from out the low and level waters and the sea raised by his chariot falls from the vast sky. But the mother had already crossed the waves and was safe on Scyros’ shore, the weary dolphins had left their mistress’ yoke, when the boy’s sleep was shaken and his wide eyes felt daylight pouring in. At first sight of sky he was stunned: what place is this, what waves, where is Pelion? Everything he sees is changed and strange, and he doubts to recognize his mother. She hastens to caress the frightened lad and lovingly addresses him:

‘Dear boy, if a kindly lot had brought me the marriage it proffered, I should be holding you in my embrace as a grand star in the celestial regions; of the great heaven should I have borne my child nor feared lowly fates and earthly dooms. As it is, my son, your birth is unequal and death’s path blocked only on your mother’s side. Ay, and the time of danger approaches, perils moved close to the final turning point. Let us give way. Lower a little your manly spirit and deign to wear my raiment. If the Tirynthian carried Lydian wool in his hard hand and womanish spears, if Bacchus it beseems to sweep his footsteps with a gold-embroidered robe, if Jupiter donned a virgin’s limbs, and doubtful sexes did not rob great Caeneus of his manhood, pray allow me this way to escape the threat and the baleful cloud. Soon I shall give you back your fields once more, once more the Centaur’s wilds. I beg you by your handsome looks and future joys of youth: if for your sake I made trial of land and a lowly spouse, if I armed you at birth with the stern Stygian river (and would it had been all of you!), for a little while take safe clothing, that will do no harm to your spirit. Why do you withdraw your face, what purpose is in your eyes? Are you ashamed to soften in this dress? I swear to you, dear boy, by my kindred sea, Chiron shall not know of this.’

So she wrought on his rough heart, coaxing in vain. Against her plea stands his father and his huge foster sire and the raw rudiments of a great nature: as though one were to try to subject a horse, haughty with the fire of unbridled youth, to his first harness; long delighting in field and river and proud beauty, he bends not his neck to the yoke nor his fierce mouth to the bit, loudly indignant to pass captive under a master’s command, marvelling to learn new courses.