ORPHEUS ON GEMS. 393
640 When Uranus, as ancient legends say,
Maimed by the cruel scythe of Saturn lay,
And writhed in torture o'er the blue profound,
From heaven's high vault self-dashing to the ground,
That with his shaggy back, to ruin hurled,
With thickest darkness he might blot the world,
Lest cruel Saturn, author of his woes,
In realms once his, might undisturbed repose ;
The immortal blood fast issuing from his wound
In copious streams fell raining on the ground,
The drops proceeding from thy sacred veins
Fate suffered not to perish on the plains ;
650
But for thy blood a resting-place she found, Sire of the gods ! within
earth's lap profound— There it remains : Sol's horses, fiery-eyed, With
their hot glance the holy relic dried : Though to the touch a stone,
its substance holds Its ancient nature and true blood enfolds— For
still as red as blood its colour bums, And slaked in water it to blood
returns. The Stone of Blood 'twas by the ancients styled, And justly praised for all its virtues mild.
660
Poets with truth have sung its heavenly birth In showers divine
descending upon earth ; For it allows no new complaint to seize The
eyes, but quick dispels each old disease. This comes if mixed with whey
of milk so pure, For ground with honey 'twill the eyelids cure. It
grieves the stone that sealed by blindness' night The eye of man should
be begrudged the sight Of that bright face which from the welkin shows
The ancientest of gods with high-arched brows. Through it the eyeballs
with fresh lustre shine : E'en impotence it cures if mixed with wine.
670
When bent to bear Achilles' arms away, Fierce Ajax hastened to the
wordy fray, Long I besought him in his hand to bear As pledge of sure
success this mineral rare. Aided by this bold Ajax had prevailed, And
e'en Minerva had his victory hailed, Though by that triumph from
Ulysses wise The giant chief had snatched the glorious prize.
