479With such words and others, they say, Numa returned to his homeland, his heart instructed, and, at the people's own request, accepted the reins of the Latin people. 482Happy in his nymph wife and with the Camenae as his guides, he taught the rites of sacrifice and led a people accustomed to fierce war over to the arts of peace. 485When, grown old, he had completed his reign and his life, the Latin women, the people and the fathers wept for Numa's death; 487for his wife, leaving the city, lies hidden in the dense woods of the Arician valley and disturbs the rites of Orestean Diana with her groaning and lament: ah!
490how often the nymphs of the grove and the lake urged her not to do so, and spoke consoling words. 492How often the hero, son of Theseus, said to her as she wept: 'Set a limit!' 493he said, 'for your fortune is not the only one to be lamented; 494look at the like misfortunes of others: you will bear yours more gently; and I wish that examples other than mine could relieve your grief! 496But mine too can. 497Someone called Hippolytus has, I think, reached your ears by report, who met his death through his father's credulity and the deceit of a wicked stepmother: you will be amazed, and I shall hardly prove it, but yet I am he.
500The daughter of Pasiphae, having once tried in vain to tempt me to defile my father's bed, claimed that I had wanted what she had wanted, and, turning the charge round (was it more from fear of disclosure, or offended at her rejection?), the wretched woman condemned me; and my father drives me, guilty of nothing, from the city, and as I go curses my head with a hostile prayer. 506I was making for Pittheus' Troezen in my fleeing chariot, and was already travelling along the shores of the Corinthian sea, when the sea rose, and a huge heap of waters seemed to curve into the shape of a mountain and grow, and give out bellowings, and split at its topmost peak.
511From there a horned bull is driven out of the broken waves, and, raised up to the chest into the soft air, spews out part of the sea from its nostrils and wide mouth. 514The hearts of my companions are terrified. 514My mind remained undaunted, content with its own exile: when the fierce horses turn their necks towards the sea and, ears pricked, shudder, and are thrown into confusion by fear of the monster, and hurl the chariot down the high cliffs; 518I struggle with my hand to guide the useless reins, smeared with white foam, and, leaning back, I pull the pliant reins towards me. 521And yet the frenzy of the horses would not have overcome this strength of mine.
522had not the wheel, where it turns around its everlasting axle, been broken and wrenched apart by striking a stump. 524I am thrown from the chariot, and, with the reins holding my limbs, you would have seen my living flesh dragged along, my sinews caught on the stump, my limbs partly carried off, partly caught and left behind, my broken bones giving a heavy sound, and my weary soul breathed out, and no parts of my body which you could recognise; 529and all was one wound. 530Can you, or do you dare, nymph, to compare your disaster with mine? 531I also saw the realms that lack light, and bathed my torn body in the water of Phlegethon; nor would life have been restored to me but for the powerful remedy of Apollo's son; 534and after I had recovered it by potent herbs and Paeonian aid, to the indignation of Dis, then, lest my presence should increase resentment at this gift, Cynthia threw thick clouds around me, and so that I might be safe and could be seen without harm, she added age to me and left me a face that could not be recognised, and long hesitated whether to give me Crete or Delos to dwell in: leaving Delos and Crete, she placed me here, and at the same time bade me lay aside my name, which might have called horses to mind, and said: "You who were Hippolytus, be now the same man as Virbius!"
545From then on I dwell in this grove, and as one of the lesser gods I lie hidden under the power of my mistress and am counted among her train.' 547Yet the sorrows of others cannot relieve Egeria's grief, and lying at the very foot of the mountain she melts into tears, until Phoebus' sister, moved by the devotion of the mourner, made a cool spring from her body and thinned her limbs into everlasting waters.