stream-residing nymphs, his laws he gives.
Here flock the neighbouring river-gods, in doubt
Or to condole, or gratulate the sire.
Here Spercheus came, whose banks with poplars wave;
Rapid Enipeus; Apidanus slow;
Amphrysos gently flowing; AEaes mild;
And other streams which wind their various course,
Till in the sea their weary wanderings end,
By natural bent directed. Absent sole
Was Inachus;--deep in his gloomy cave
Dark hidden, with his tears he swells his floods.
He, wretched sire, his Ioe's loss bewails;
Witless if living air she still enjoys,
Or with the shades she dwells; and no where found
He dreads the worst, and thinks her not to be.
The beauteous damsel from her father's banks
Jove saw returning, and, "O, maid!" exclaim'd,
"Worthy of Jove, whose charms will shortly bless
"Some youth desertless; come, and seek the shade,
"Yon lofty groves afford,"--and shew'd the groves,--
"While now Sol scorches from heaven's midmost height.
"Fear not the forests to explore alone,
"But in their deepest shades adventurous go;
"A god shall guard thee:--no plebeian god,
"But he whose mighty hand the sceptre grasps
"Of rule celestial, and the lightening flings.
"O fly me not"--for Ioe fled, amaz'd.
Now Lerna's pastures, and Lyrcaea's lands
With trees thick-planted, far behind were left;
When with a sudden mist the god conceal'd
The wide-spread earth, and stopp'd her eager flight;
And in his arms the struggling maid compress'd.
Meantime did Juno cast her eyes below,
The floating clouds surpris'd to see produce
A night-like shade amidst so bright a day.
No common clouds, from streams exhal'd, she knew;
Nor misty vapours from the humid earth.
Suspicions rise; her sharpness oft had caught
Her amorous husband in his thefts of love.
She search'd around the sky, its lord explor'd,--
But not in heaven he sate;--then loud exclaim'd:
"Much must I err, or much my bed is wrong'd."
Down sliding from the topmost heaven, on earth
She lights, and bids the cloudy mists recede.
Prepar'd already, Jove the nymph had chang'd,
And in a lovely heifer's form she stood.
A shape so beauteous fair,--though sore chagrin'd,
Unwilling Juno prais'd; and whence she came,
And who her owner asks; and of what herd?
Her prying art, as witless of the truth,
To baffle, from the earth he feigns her sprung;
And straight Saturnia begs the beauteous gift.