I came too near to Strymon’s fruitful couch, that day we Muses came to the brow of Mount Pangaeus with its soil of gold, furnished forth with all our music for one great trial of minstrel skill with that clever Thracian bard; and we blinded him, Thamyris, the man who often reviled our craft. And then, when I gave birth to you, because I felt shame of my sisters and my virginity, I sent you to the swirling stream of your father, the river; and Strymon did not entrust your nurture to mortal hands, but to the fountain nymphs. There you were reared most fairly by the maiden nymphs, and you ruled over Thrace , a leader among men, my child. So long as you ranged your native land in quest of bloody deeds of prowess I did not fear for your death; but I forbade you to set out for Troy ,