wet. It stripped the trees of leaves, and spread panic and c haos among the people. Hyacinthus was impressed. Then came Apollo's turn. He drew his silver bow and shot a shimmering arrow that spread nothing but songs and sweet pleasure in its wake. That won Hyacinthus over — he had never seen anything remotely like it in his life. He turned his back on the West Wind, and modestly asked Apollo to be his lover. Zephyrus stormed off in a rage, sw earing vengeance, but all those gathered there only smiled at his bluff and bluster.
From that day on, the two could hardly stay apart. Time and again, in Delphi, the god up and walked off, leaving his shrine untended, just to be with Hyacinthus — never had he loved anyone as much as he loved this boy. He took
