“Who would not have been moved with these gentle words of the goddess? […] among the clouds, their eldest brother,     But just flown up, tells with a smile of bliss, This prank of Pluto to his charmed mother,     Who turns to greet the tidings with a kiss.” […] Who reads his bosom reads immortal life, Or nature there, imposing on her sons, Has written fables; man was made a lie.” […] Who brought me here? […] To which question the river-god replied as follows: “Who likes to tell of his defeats?