Chapter_10

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But the Grace of Beauty, which aye is weaving

All manner of charm round the souls of men,

Taketh these tales unworthy believing,

And arrays them in honour: so cometh it then

That man with unwavering credence clings

To a false-feigned tale of impossible things.

But the after-days are the witnesses

That be wisest. Reverent speech beseemeth

The mortal who uttereth that which he deemeth

Of the Gods⁠—so shall his reproach be less.

O Tantalus’ son, I will speak not as they

Who told thy story in days of old!

But thy father bade thee a guest that day

To a banquet arrayed by the righteous-souled

Upon Sipylus’ loved height⁠—so he tendered

To the Gods requital for boons they had rendered.

On a sudden the chariot of gold