Hermes, take this apple; go to Phrygia, to Priam’s son, the herdsman—he is grazing his flock in the foothills of Ida, on Gargaron—and say to him: “Paris, as you are handsome yourself, and also well schooled in all that concerns love, Zeus bids you be judge for the goddesses, to decide which of them is the most beautiful. As the prize for the contest, let the victor take the apple.” (To the Gopprsses) You yourselves must now go and appear before your judge. I refuse to be umpire because I love you all alike and if it were possible, should be glad to see you all victorious. Moreover, it is sure that if I gave the guerdon of beauty to one, I should inevitably get into the bad graces of the majority. For those reasons I 4am not a proper judge for you, but the young Phrygian to whom you are going is of royal blood and near of kin to our Ganymede; besides, he is ingenuous and unsophisticated, and one cannot consider him unworthy of a spectacle such as this.

For my part, Zeus, even if you should appoint Momus himself to be our judge, I would go and face the inspection confidently, for what could he carp at inme? The others, too, ought to be satisfied with the man. We are not afraid either, Aphrodite, not even if the arbitration is turned over to your own Ares. We accept this Paris, whoever he may be.

Is that your view too, daughter? What do you say? You turn away and blush? Of course, it is the way of a maid like you to be bashful in such matters, but you nod assent anyhow. Go, then, and do not get angry at your judge, those of you who are defeated, and do not inflict any harm on the lad. It is not possible for all of you to be equally beautiful.

Let us make straight for Phrygia; I will lead the way, and you follow me without delaying. Be of good courage; I know Paris. He is young and handsome and in every way susceptible to love; just the sort to decide such questions. He would not judge amiss, not he.

What you say is all to the good and in my favour, that our judge is just. Is he unmarried, or does some woman live with him?

Not quite unmarried, Aphrodite.

What do you mean by that?

Apparently someone is living with him, a woman from Mount Ida, well enough, but countrified and terribly unsophisticated; however, he does not seem . to think much of her.

The reference is to Oenone.

But why do you ask? It was just a casual question.

I say, you are betraying your trust in talking to her privately all this while.

It was nothing alarming, Athena, or against you and Hera; she asked me whether Paris is unmarried. ATHENA Why was she inquisitive about that?

I don’t know; she says, however, that she asked because it came into her head casually, and not because she had anything definite in view.

Well, what about it? Is he unmarried?

Apparently not.

Tell me, does he covet success in war and is he fond of glory, or nothing but a herdsman?.

I can’t say for certain, but it is fair to suppose that, being young, he yearns to acquire all that too, and would like to be first in war.

You see, I am not making any complaint or reproaching you with talking confidentially to her; that is the way of fault-finders, not of Aphrodite! She herself asked me _ractically the same questions; so do not be ill-tempered or think you are getting the worst of it if I answered her as I did you, in a straightforward way.

But in the course of our conversation we have already left the stars far behind as we pressed on, and we are almost over Phrygia. Indeed I can see Ida and the whole of Gargaron plainly, and unless I am mistaken, even Paris himself, your judge.

Where is he? I do not see him.

Look in this direction, Hera, to the left; not near the mountain-top, but on the side, where the cavern is, near which you see the herd.

But I do not see the herd.

What? Don’t you see tiny cattle over here in the direction of my finger, coming out from among the rocks, and someone running down from the cliff, holding a crook and trying to prevent the herd from scattering out ahead of him?

I see now—if that is really he.

Yes, itis he. As we are near now, let us alight upon the earth and walk, if it is your pleasure, so that we may not alarm him by flying suddenly down from above. You are right: let us do so... Now that we have descended, it is in order, Aphrodite, for you to go in front and lead the way for us. You are probably acquainted with the countryside, since by common report you often came down to visit Anchises.

These jokes do not vex me greatly, Hera.