Orpheus
refused to lend its waters to cleanse their crime. It chose to dive underground, where it still runs. The men of Thrace 170 were overwhelmed with sadness to see their prophet murdered, and turned on their women to punish them. They held back from bloodshed, however. Instead, they tattooed their wives’ arms and legs, that way they might look upon the marks and not forget the foul deed all their days. Calliope and the Muses rushed down in tears, gathered up Orpheus’ limbs, and laid them to rest. The river, however, kept his head and lyre and floated them downstream, still singing, until they reached the foaming breakers of the sea. There, the winds and waves bore them across to sacred Lesbos, the island which ever since has been 180 possessed by love and song. The men of Lesbos buried the head with honors, and the Muses, by Zeus’ leave, studded the lyre with stars and flung it into the heavens. On Earth, too, Orpheus’ legacy lives on, and across the hills of Thrace the love of handsome boys flourishes to this day.
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Dionysus and Satyrs
