Then Iris changed her shape, and all unseen she put on the look of dark Night unrecognizable. She came near to Sleep, weaving guile; and in his mother’s guise uttered her deceitful speech in cajoling whispers :
“My child, how long is Cronides to despise me? Is it not enough that Phaéthon does me violence, that Morning shoots me, and Dawn pursues me? Zeus has got a bastard son, just to confound my dear Sleep! One mortal by himself insults me and my son: all night long Bacchos destroys me, and provokes you, by keeping wide awake and kindling his blazing torch with mystic sparks. Why are you named Allvanquisher, Sleep? No longer you charm wakeful men, now that the spurious gleam of earthborn Lyaios has conquered my revels—for he hides the flames of my stars by brighter torches of his own. One mortal by himself insults me, a new Lightbringer who covers the beams of my Moon great as they are. I am shamed before Day when she mocks at darkness, because I have a false brightness in the night: for a foreign unnatural Sun makes me shine as if night were day. O my dear son! you must resent this on two counts—resist the mystical Satyrs, resist Dionysos the sleepless! Grant this boon to your sorrowful mother, grant this boon to Hera, and charm the charmproof eye of Zeus in the Highest, just for one day, that she may help the Indians whom the Satyrs scatter in rout and still Bacchos harries.
“O Sleep, why are you named Allvanquisher ? If it be your pleasure, pray turn your eye, and you shall perceive Cronion wakeful once again through the night in sevengate Thebes. Make an end of the wantonness of Zeus Lawbreaker ! Amphitryon is far from his bridal chamber, steelclad and in the battle ; Zeus makes himself at home by the side of Alemena, enjoying insatiate three moons of bridal darkness ! Let me not see Zeus yet wakeful for a fourth night.
“Nay, my son, arm you against Cronion—let him not have more darkness, nine full circles more! Remember Mnemosyne in the old time before us ; how he lay by her side for nine whole nights, with eyes ever wakeful, full of passion for many children in that unresting bridal. Another allvanquishing god, winged like Sleep, little Love, conquered Cronides with a tiny dart.
“Pity the blackskin nation of earthborn Indians! Grant this boon—for they have the same colour as your mother—save the black ones, O Blackwing! Do not provoke Earth, my father’s agemate, from whom alone we are all sprung, we who dwell in Olympos. Tremble not before Zeus, when his consort Hera is favourable : tremble not before Semele, whom her own bedfellow burnt up. No fiery lightning can equal you, no loud thunderclaps from the bursting clouds: do but flap me your wings, and Zeus lies immovable on unshaken bed, so long as you command him, Sleep! I have heard that you want one of the Graces; then if you have in your heart an itch for her bedchamber, have a care! Do not provoke Pasithea’s mother, Hera the handmaid of wedded love! And if you dwell with Tethys by the Leucadian Rock, do help Deriades the son of Indian Hydaspes: be true to a neighbour, for resounding Ocean your loud-voiced neighbour was an ancestor of Deriades.”’
With this appeal, she won his consent. Then Sleep as one obeying a mother started up, and swore to charm the eyes of unresting Zeus even until the third dawn should come; but Iris begged him to fasten Cronion with slumber for the course of one day only. There Sleep remained, awaiting the happy season of marriage.
Then goddess Iris returned flying at speed, and hastened to deliver her welcome message to her queen.
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