At the beginning there was only Chaos, Night, dark Erebus,
and deep Tartarus. Earth, the air and heaven had no existence.
Firstly, black-winged Night laid a germless egg in the bosom
of the infinite deeps of Erebus, and from this, after the revolution
of long ages, sprang the graceful Eros with his glittering golden wings,
swift as the whirlwinds of the tempest. He mated in deep Tartarus
with dark Chaos, winged like himself, and thus hatched forth our race,
which was the first to see the light. That of the Immortals did not
exist until Eros had brought together all the ingredients of the world,
and from their marriage Heaven, Ocean, Earth and the imperishable race
of blessed gods sprang into being. Thus our origin is very much
older than that of the dwellers in Olympus. We are the offspring
of Eros; there are a thousand proofs to show it. We have wings and we
lend assistance to lovers. How many handsome youths, who had sworn
to remain insensible, have not been vanquished by our power
and have yielded themselves to their lovers when almost at the end
of their youth, being led away by the gift of a quail, a waterfowl,
a goose, or a cock.[4]

And what important services do not the birds render to mortals!
First of all, they mark the seasons for them, springtime, winter,
and autumn. Does the screaming crane migrate to Libya, --it warns
the husbandman to sow, the pilot to take his ease beside his tiller hung
up in his dwelling,[5] and Orestes[6] to weave a tunic, so that the
rigorous cold
may not drive him any more to strip other folk. When the kite
reappears, he tells
of the return of spring and of the period when the fleece of the sheep
must be clipped. Is the swallow in sight? All hasten to sell their warm tunic
and to buy some light clothing. We are your Ammon, Delphi, Dodona,