Then one replies: “O goddess, fit to guide
Our humble works, and in our choir preside,
Who sure would wisely to these fields repair,
To taste our pleasures, and our labours share,
Were not your virtue and superior mind,
To higher arts and nobler deeds inclined;
Justly you praise our works, and pleasing seat,
Which all might envy in this soft retreat,
Were we secured from dangers and from harms;
But maids are frighten’d with the least alarms,
And none are safe in this licentious time:
Still fierce Pyreneus, and his daring crime,
With lasting horror strikes my feeble sight,
Nor is my mind recover’d from the fright.
With Thracian arms this bold usurper gain’d
Daulis and Phocis, where he proudly reign’d.
It happen’d once, as through his lands we went,
For the bright temple of Parnassus bent,
He met us there, and, in his artful mind,
Hiding the faithless action he design’d,
Conferr’d on us (whom, O too well he knew!)
All honours that to goddesses are due.
‘Stop, stop, ye muses, ’tis your friend who calls,’
The tyrant said; ‘behold the rain that falls
On every side, and that ill-boding sky,
Whose lowering face portends more storms are nigh:
Pray make my house your own, and, void of fear,
While this bad weather lasts, take shelter here:
Gods have made meaner places their resort,
And for a cottage left their shining court.’
“Obliged to stop, by the united force
Of pouring rains, and complaisant discourse,
His courteous invitation we obey,
And in his hall resolve a while to stay.
Soon it clear’d up, the clouds began to fly,
The driving north refined the showery sky;
Then to pursue our journey we began;
But the false traitor to his portal ran;
Stopp’d our escape; the door securely barr’d,
And to our honour violence prepared;
But we, transform’d to birds, avoid his snare,
On pinions rising in the yielding air.
“But he, by lust and indignation fired,
Up to his highest tower with speed retired,
And cries ‘In vain you from my arms withdrew,
The way you go your lover will pursue.’
Then in a flying posture wildly placed,
And daring from that height himself to cast,
The wretch fell headlong, and the ground bestrew’d
With broken bones, and stains of guilty blood.”