Then by consent abstain from further spoils,
  Call off the dogs, and gather up the toils;
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  And ere to-morrow’s sun begins his race,
  Take the cool morning to renew the chase.’ 
  They all consent, and in a cheerful train
  The jolly huntsmen, loaden with the slain,
  Return in triumph from the sultry plain. 
     Down in a vale with pine and cypress clad,
  Refreshed with gentle winds, and brown with shade,
  The chaste Diana’s private haunt, there stood
  Full in the centre of the darksome wood
  A spacious grotto, all around o’ergrown
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  With hoary moss, and arched with pumice-stone. 
  From out its rocky clefts the waters flow,
  And trickling swell into a lake below. 
  Nature had everywhere so played her part,
  That everywhere she seemed to vie with art. 
  Here the bright goddess, toiled and chafed with heat,
  Was wont to bathe her in the cool retreat. 
     Here did she now with all her train resort,
  Panting with heat, and breathless from the sport;
  Her armour-bearer laid her bow aside,
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  Some loosed her sandals, some her veil untied;
  Each busy nymph her proper part undressed;
  While Crocale, more handy than the rest,
  Gathered her flowing hair, and in a noose
  Bound it together, whilst her own hung loose. 
  Five of the more ignoble sort by turns
  Fetch up the water, and unlade their urns. 
     Now all undressed the shining goddess stood,
  When young Actaeon, wildered in the wood,
  To the cool grot by his hard fate betrayed,
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  The fountains filled with naked nymphs surveyed. 
  The frighted virgins shrieked at the surprise,
  (The forest echoed with their piercing cries,)
  Then in a huddle round their goddess pressed: 
  She, proudly eminent above the rest,
  With blushes glowed; such blushes as adorn
  The ruddy welkin, or the purple morn;
  And though the crowding nymphs her body hide,
  Half backward shrunk, and viewed him from aside. 
  Surprised, at first she would have snatched her bow,
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  But sees the circling waters round her flow;
  These in the hollow of her hand she took,
  And dashed them in his face, while thus she spoke: 
  ’Tell if thou canst the wondrous sight disclosed,
  A goddess naked to thy view exposed.’ 
     This said, the man began to disappear
  By slow degrees, and ended in a deer. 
  A rising horn on either brow he wears,
  And stretches out his neck, and pricks his ears;
  Rough is his skin, with sudden hairs o’ergrown,
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  His bosom pants with fears before unknown. 
  Transformed at length, he flies away in haste,
  And wonders why he flies away so fast. 
  But as by chance, within a neighbouring brook,
  He saw his branching horns and altered look,
  Wretched Actaeon! in a doleful tone
  He tried to speak, but only gave a groan;