her spindle from her hand
"Nerveless. But ev'n her terror seem'd to add
"Fresh beauty to her features. Longer he
"Delay'd not, but his wonted form assum'd;
"In heavenly splendor shining. Mild the maid,
"Won by his beauteous brightness, (though at first,
"His sudden shape surpriz'd her) sunk beneath
"The force he urg'd, with unresisting power.

"The jealous Clytie (who with amorous flame
"Burn'd for Apollo) urg'd by harlot's rage,
"Straight to the sire, Leucothoe's crime betray'd;
"Painting the nymph's misdeed with heighten'd glow.
"Fierce rag'd the father,--merciless inhum'd
"Her living body deep in earth! Outstretcht
"High to the sun her arms, and praying warm
"For mercy;--he by force, she cry'd, prevail'd!
"O'er her untimely grave a lofty mound
"Of sand, her sire uprear'd. Hyperion's son
"Through this an opening with his beams quick form'd,
"Full wide for her, her head intomb'd to lift,
"Once to the light again. Thy bury'd corse
"No more thou now couldst raise; the ponderous load
"Of earth prevents thee; and a bloodless mass,
"Exanimate, thou ly'st! Not deeper grief
"'Tis said, the ruler of the swift-wing'd steeds,
"Display'd, when o'er the earth the hapless flames
"By Phaeton were thrown. Arduous he strives,
"Her gelid limbs, with all his powerful rays
"To vivid heat recal: stern fate withstands
"His utmost urg'd endeavours: bathing then
"Her pallid corse, and all the earth around
"With odorous nectar, sorrowing sad he cries;--
"Yet, shalt thou reach the heavens! And soon began
"Her limbs, soft melting in celestial dew,
"With moistening drops of strong perfume to flow:
"Slowly a frankincense's rooted twigs
"Spread in the earth,--its top the hillock burst.

"Angry the god (though violent love the pain
"Of jealousy might well excuse,--the pain
"Of jealousy the tale) from Clytie now
"Abstains; no more in amorous mood they meet.
"Rash now the deed her burning love had caus'd,
"Too late she found;--she flies her sister-nymphs;
"And pining, on the cold bare turf she sits;
"By day,--by night,--sole shelter'd by the sky;
"Her dripping tresses matted round her brows:
"Food,--drink, abhorring. Nine long days she bore
"Sharp famine, bath'd with dew, bath'd with her tears;
"Still on the ground prone lying. Yet the god
"In circling motion still she ardent view'd;
"Turning her face to his. Tradition tells,
"Her