son Apollo, which are borne along by the swirling waters, the innumerable tears he shed long before, when he went to the holy race of the Hyperboreans, having left the bright heaven at his father’s rebuke, angry about his son whom godlike Coronis had borne in bright Lacereia by the waters of the Amyrus.⁸³ Such is the account told among those people. But no desire for food or drink came over the heroes, nor did their minds turn to joyous thoughts. But instead, during the day they were sickened to exhaustion, oppressed by the nauseous stench, which, unbearable, the tributaries of the Eridanus exhaled from smoldering Phaethon, while at night they heard the piercing lament of the loudly wailing Heliades, and, as they wept, their tears were borne along the waters like drops of oil.

From there they entered the deep stream of the Rhone, which flows into the Eridanus, and in the strait where they meet the churning water roars. Now that river, rising from the end of the earth, where the gates and precincts of Night are located,⁸⁴ through one branch⁸⁵ disgorges onto the shores of the Ocean, through another pours into the Ionian sea,⁸⁶ and through a third pours its streams through