The muse yet spoke, when they began to hear
A noise of wings that flutter’d in the air;
And straight a voice, from some high-spreading bough,
Seem’d to salute the company below.
The goddess wonder’d, and inquired from whence
That tongue was heard, that spoke so plainly sense.
(It seem’d to her a human voice to be,
But proved a bird’s; for in a shady tree
Nine magpies perch’d, lament their alter’d state,
And what they hear are skilful to repeat.)
The sister to the wondering goddess said,
“These, foil’d by us, by us were thus repaid:
These did Evippe of Paeonia bring,
With nine hard labour-pangs, to Pella’s king.
The foolish virgins, of their number proud,
And puff’d with praises of the senseless crowd,
Through all Achaia and the Aemonian plains,
Defied us thus, to match their artless strains:
‘No more, ye Thespian girls, your notes repeat,
Nor with false harmony the vulgar cheat;
In voice or skill if you with us will vie,
As many we in voice or skill will try:
Surrender you to us, if we excel,
Famed Aganippe, and Medusa’s well:
The conquest yours, your prize from us shall be
The Aemathian plains to snowy Paeone:
The nymphs our judges.’ To dispute the field
We thought a shame; but greater shame to yield.
On seats of living stone the sisters sit,
And by the rivers swear to judge aright.”