We Sisters came with lutes and psalteries,Provoked to meet in bitter strife of songThat mountain wizard, and made dark the eyesOf Thamyris, who wrought sweet music wrong.I bore thee, Child; and then, in shame beforeMy sisterhood, my dear virginity,I stood again upon thy Father’s shoreAnd cast thee to the deeps of him; and heReceived and to no mortal nursing gaveHis child, but to the Maidens of the Wave.