"No longer, Orpheus, will you lead the oaks under your spell nor the rocks nor the herds of beasts that obey their own laws. No longer will you put to sleep the roar of the winds nor the hail nor the swirl of snowflakes nor the crashing sea. For you have perished, and the Muses, daughters of Memory, have wept over you, and most of all your mother, Calliope. Why do we wail over sons who have died when not even the gods have the power to keep Hades from their children?"