A fir it was, that shot past air, and kiss’d the burning sky; There sate he hid in his dark arms, and in the shape with all Of that continual prating bird, whom all the Deities call Chalcis, but men Cymmindis name. Saturnia tripp’d apace, Up to the top of Gargarus, and show’d her heav’nly face To Jupiter, who saw, and lov’d, and with as hot a fire, Being curious in her tempting view, as when with first desire (The pleasure of it being stol’n) they mix’d in love and bed; And, gazing on her still, he said: “Saturnia, what hath bred This haste in thee from our high court, and whither tends thy gait, That void of horse and chariot, fit for thy sov’reign state, Thou lackiest here?” Her studied fraud replied: “My journey now Leaves state and labours to do good; and where in right I owe All kindness to the Sire of Gods, and our good Mother Queen That nurst and kept me curiously in court (since both have been Long time at discord) my desire is to atone their hearts; And therefore go I now to see those earth’s extremest parts. For whose far-seat I spar’d my horse the scaling of this hill, And left them at the foot of it; for they must taste their fill Of travail with me, and must draw my coach through earth and seas, Whose far-intended reach, respect, and care not to displease Thy graces, made me not attempt, without thy gracious leave.” The cloud-compelling God her guile in this sort did receive: “Juno, thou shalt have after leave, but, ere so far thou stray, Convert we our kind thoughts to love, that now doth ev’ry way Circle with victory my pow’rs, nor yet with any dame, Woman, or Goddess, did his fires my bosom so inflame As now with thee. Not when it lov’d the parts so generous Ixion’s wife had, that brought forth the wise Pirithous; Nor when the lovely dame Acrisius’ daughter stirr’d My amorous pow’rs, that Perseus bore to all men else preferr’d; Nor when the dame, that Phenix got, surpris’d me with her sight, Who the divine-soul’d Rhadamanth and Minos brought to light; Nor Semele, that bore to me the joy of mortal men, The sprightly Bacchus; nor the dame that Thebes renownéd then, Alcmena, that bore Hercules; Latona, so renown’d; Queen Ceres, with the golden hair; nor thy fair eyes did wound My entrails to such depth as now with thirst of amorous ease.” The cunning Dame seem’d much incens’d, and said: “What words are these, Unsufferable Saturn’s son? What! Here! In Ida’s height! Desir’st thou this? How fits it us? Or what if in the sight Of any God thy will were pleas’d, that he the rest might bring To witness thy incontinence? ’Twere a dishonour’d thing. I would not show my face in heav’n, and rise from such a bed. But, if love be so dear to thee, thou hast a chamberstead, Which Vulcan purposely contriv’d with all fit secrecy; There sleep at pleasure.” He replied: “I fear not if the eye Of either God or man observe, so thick a cloud of gold I’ll cast about us that the sun, who furthest can behold,