The Epic of Heleigiri | by Eribas
Sing, O Muses of Olympus, of the silver-bowed lord who dwells in Pytho, and of the hidden maid of the high heavens, whom men call Heleigiri, though she walked disguised among the deathless gods. Then did Apollo, lord of light and prophetic speech, behold a wonder. By the still waters of the secluded lake—where only the blessed immortals tread— He stood in concealment, his heart struck by the sharp arrows of desire. For there she bathed, stripping away her starry vestments, And her skin shone whiter than the winter snow upon the peaks of Olympus. Within his breast, fierce lust and noble love waged a bitter war; Yet the son of Leto mastered his mind, checking the wild impulse, And chose instead the path of lingering watchfulness. Day after day, through the sacred groves, he followed her shadow, Until the veil of her mystery parted, and he knew her true name. Though Zeus, the cloud-gatherer, cast his own dark eyes of longing upon her, Apollo’s passion grew as a vine in spring,...