Swiftly they made their way along the long journey. Neither the sea nor the water of the rivers nor the grassy valleys nor the mountain peaks could hold up the onrush of the immortal horses. High over the peaks they went, slicing through the vast air. He came to a halt at the place where Demeter, with the beautiful garlands in the hair, was staying, at the forefront of the temple fragrant with incense. When she saw them, she rushed forth like a maenad down a wooded mountainslope.

(Hymn to Demeter, 380-389)