flew! 
  How did she fear her fellow-brutes, and shun
  The shaggy bear, though now herself was one! 
  How from the sight of rugged wolves retire,
130
  Although the grim Lycaon was her sire! 
     But now her son had fifteen summers told,
  Fierce at the chase, and in the forest bold;
  When, as he beat the woods in quest of prey,
  He chanced to rouse his mother where she lay. 
  She knew her son, and kept him in her sight,
  And fondly gazed:  the boy was in a fright,
  And aimed a pointed arrow at her breast,
  And would have slain his mother in the beast;
  But Jove forbade, and snatched them through the air
140
  In whirlwinds up to heaven, and fixed them there: 
  Where the new constellations nightly rise,
  And add a lustre to the northern skies. 
     When Juno saw the rival in her height,
  Spangled with stars, and circled round with light,
  She sought old Ocean in his deep abodes,
  And Tethys; both revered among the gods. 
  They ask what brings her there:  ‘Ne’er ask,’ says she,
  ’What brings me here, heaven is no place for me. 
  You’ll see, when night has covered all things o’er,
150
  Jove’s starry bastard and triumphant whore
  Usurp the heavens; you ’ll see them proudly roll
  In their new orbs, and brighten all the pole. 
  And who shall now on Juno’s altars wait,
  When those she hates grow greater by her hate? 
  I on the nymph a brutal form impress’d,
  Jove to a goddess has transformed the beast;
  This, this was all my weak revenge could do: 
  But let the god his chaste amours pursue,
  And, as he acted after Io’s rape,
160
  Restore the adulteress to her former shape. 
  Then may he cast his Juno off, and lead
  The great Lycaon’s offspring to his bed. 
  But you, ye venerable powers, be kind,
  And, if my wrongs a due resentment find,
  Receive not in your waves their setting beams,
  Nor let the glaring strumpet taint your streams.’ 
     The goddess ended, and her wish was given. 
  Back she returned in triumph up to heaven;
  Her gaudy peacocks drew her through the skies,
170
  Their tails were spotted with a thousand eyes;
  The eyes of Argus on their tails were ranged,
  At the same time the raven’s colour changed.

  THE STORY OF CORONIS, AND BIRTH OF AESCULAPIUS.

  The raven once in snowy plumes was dress’d,
  White as the whitest dove’s unsullied breast,
  Fair as the guardian of the Capitol,
  Soft as the swan; a large and lovely fowl;
  His tongue, his prating tongue, had changed him quite
  To sooty blackness from the purest white. 
     The story of his change shall here be told: 
  In Thessaly there lived a nymph of old,
  Coronis named; a peerless maid she shined,
  Confessed the fairest of the fairer kind.
10
  Apollo loved her, till her guilt he knew,