Reader

POSEIDON What’s all this, Alpheus? When you run into the sea, you’re the only one that doesn’t mix with the salt water like all the other rivers! You don’t disperse and give yourself a rest, but go through the sea without disintegrating, and keep your water fresh! You dive right down like a gull or a heron, and hurry on, I don’t know where, undiluted and pure. I suppose you’ll pop up again somewhere and show yourself once more. ALPHEUS It’s a matter of love, Poseidon; so no questions, please; you’ve been in love often enough yourself. POSEIDON Is it a woman you love, Alpheus, or a Nymph or a Nereid from the sea? ALPHEUS No, Poseidon, a fountain. POSEIDON And where on earth does she have her waters? ALPHEUS In an island—in Sicily; they call her Arethusa.

POSEIDON I know Arethusa, and she’s not at all bad-looking. She’s translucent and gushes up pure. Her water makes a pretty picture along with her pebbles, all of it gleaming above them like silver. ALPHEUS You certainly do know my fountain, Poseidon. Well, I’m off to her. POSEIDON Off with you, then, and good luck in your love. But tell me, where did you see her? You’re from Arcadia, and she’s at Syracuse. ALPHEUS I’m in a hurry, Poseidon, and you’re delaying me with these pointless questions. POSEIDON Well spoken. Away with you to your beloved, come up from the sea, mingle with your fountain and become one water.