She could not for her full time hide the blossom
Of a God’s love from Aipytus: keen dread
And wrath no words might utter racked his bosom.
For light in darkness Pytho-ward he sped.
She laid the while her girdle crimson-twined
’Neath boughs dark-shadowing, and her silver ewer.
And there she bore a boy of godlike mind;
For golden-haired Apollo drew unto her
The Fates, and Eileithyia travail-kind.