Have you contempted Juno’s Pelasgian temples,

Have you denied Pallas good eyes?

Or is it my tongue that wrongs you

with perpetual ascription of graces?

There comes, it seems, and at any rate

through perils, (so many) and of a vexed life,

The gentler hour of an ultimate day.

Io mooed the first years with averted head,

And now drinks Nile water like a god,

Ino in her young days fled pellmell out of Thebes,

Andromeda was offered to a sea-serpent

and respectably married to Perseus,

Callisto, disguised as a bear,

wandered through the Arcadian prairies

While a black veil was over her stars,

What if your fates are accelerated;

your quiet hour put forward,

You may find interment pleasing,

You will say that you succumbed to a danger identical,

charmingly identical, with Semele’s,

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