825

Survey'd the fruitful fields of Arcady;
And wonder'd that the mist should overrun
The face of daylight, and obscure the sun.
No natural cause she found, from brooks or bogs,
Or marshy lowlands, to produce the fogs:
Then round the skies she sought for Jupiter,
Her faithless husband; but no Jove was there.
Suspecting now the worst, Or I, she said,
Am much mistaken, or am much betray'd.
With fury she precipitates her flight,
Dispels the shadows of dissembled night,
And to the day restores his native light.
The almighty leacher, careful to prevent
The consequence, foreseeing her descent,
Transforms his mistress in a trice; and now
In Io's place appears a lovely cow.

So sleek her skin, so faultless was her make,
E'en Juno did unwilling pleasure take

To see so fair a rival of her love;

830

835

And what she was, and whence, inquir'd of Jove:
Of what fair herd, and from what pedigree?
The god, half-caught, was forc'd upon a lie;

And said she sprung from earth. She took the

word,

And begg'd the beauteous heifer of her lord.
What should he do? 'twas equal shame to Jove
Or to relinquish, or betray his love:

Yet to refuse so slight a gift, would be
But more to increase his consort's jealousy:
Thus fear, and love, by turns his heart assail'd;

And stronger love had sure at length prevail'd, 850 But some faint hope remain'd, his jealous queen Had not the mistress through the heifer seen. The cautious goddess, of her gift possest,

Yet harbour'd anxious thoughts within her breast;

As she who knew the falsehood of her Jove,
And justly fear'd some new relapse of love.
Which to prevent, and to secure her care,
To trusty Argus she commits the fair.

855

The head of Argus (as with stars the skies)
Was compass'd round, and wore a hundred eyes.
But two by turns their lids in slumber steep;
The rest on duty still their station keep;
Nor could the total constellation sleep.
Thus, ever present to his eyes and mind,
His charge was still before him, though behind 865
In fields he suffer'd her to feed by day;
But, when the setting sun to night gave way,
The captive cow he summon'd with a call,
And drove her back, and tied her to the stall.
On leaves of trees and bitter herbs she fed, 870
Heaven was her canopy, bare earth her bed;
So hardly lodg'd: and to digest her food,
She drank from troubled streams, defil'd with mud.
Her woful story fain she would have told,
With hands upheld, but had no hands to hold. 875
Her head to her ungentle keeper bow'd,

She strove to speak; she spoke not, but she low'd.
Affrighted with the noise, she look'd around,
And seem'd to inquire the author of the sound.

;

885

Once on the banks where often she had play'd, (Her father's banks) she came, and there survey'd Her alter'd visage, and her branching head; And, starting, from herself she would have fled. Her fellow-nymphs, familiar to her eyes, Beheld, but knew her not in this disguise. E'en Inachus himself was ignorant; And in his daughter did his daughter want. She follow'd where her fellows went, as she Were still a partner of the company: They stroke her neck; the gentle heifer stands, And her neck offers to their stroking hands. Her father gave her grass; the grass she took And lick'd his palms, and cast a piteous look; And in the language of her eyes she spoke. She would have told her name, and ask'd relief, But, wanting words, in tears she tells her grief. Which with her foot she makes him understand; And prints the name of Io in the sand. Ah wretched me! her mournful father cried; She, with a sigh, to wretched me replied: About her milk-white neck his arms he threw ; And wept, and then these tender words ensue. And art thou she, whom I have sought around The world, and have at length so sadly found? So found, is worse than lost: with mutual words Thou answer'st not, no voice thy tongue affords: But sighs are deeply drawn from out thy breast; And speech denied by lowing is express'd. Unknowing, I prepar'd thy bridal bed;

900

With empty hopes of happy issue fed.
But now the husband of a herd must be
Thy mate, and bellowing sons thy progeny.
Oh, were I mortal, death might bring relief!
But now my godhead but extends my grief;
Prolongs my woes, of which no end I see,
And makes me curse my immortality.
More had he said, but fearful of her stay,
The starry guardian drove his charge away,
To some fresh pasture, on a hilly height
He sat himself, and kept her still in sight.

910

915

920

THE EYES OF ARGUS TRANSFORMED INTO A PEACOCK'S TRAIN.

Now Jove no longer could her sufferings bear: But call'd in haste his airy messenger,

The son of Maïa, with severe decree

To kill the keeper, and to set her free.

With all his harness soon the god was sped; 925
His flying hat was fasten'd on his head;
Wings on his heels were hung, and in his hand
He holds the virtue of the snaky wand.
The liquid air his moving pinions wound,
And, in the moment, shoot him on the ground. 930
Before he came in sight, the crafty god
His wings dismiss'd, but still retain'd his rod :
That sleep-procuring wand wise Hermes took,
But made it seem to sight a shepherd's hook.
With this he did a herd of goats control;

935

Which by the way he met, and slily stole.
Clad like a country swain, he pip'd, and sung;
And, playing, drove his jolly troop along.

94C

With pleasure Argus the musician heeds: But wonders much at those new vocal reeds. And, Whosoe'er thou art, my friend, said he, Up hither drive thy goats, and play by me: This hill has browse for them, and shade for thee. The god, who was with ease induc'd to climb, Began discourse to pass away the time; And still, betwixt, his tuneful pipe he plies; And watch'd his hour, to close the keeper's eyes. With much ado, he partly kept awake;

945

Not suffering all his eyes repose to take:
And ask'd the stranger, who did reeds invent, 950
And whence began so rare an instrument.

THE TRANSFORMATION OF SYRINX
INTO REEDS.

955

Then Hermes thus; A nymph of late there was, Whose heavenly form her fellows did surpass. The pride and joy of fair Arcadia's plains; Belov'd by deities, ador'd by swains: Syrinx her name, by Sylvans oft pursu❜d, As oft she did the lustful gods delude: The rural and the woodland powers disdain'd; With Cynthia hunted, and her rites maintain'd; Like Phoebe clad, e'en Phobe's self she seems, So tall, so straight, such well-proportion'd limbs :