Now Cancer glows with Phoebus' fiery car: The youth rush eager to the sylvan war, Swarm o'er the lawns, the forest walks surround, Rouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound. 150 The impatient courser pants in every vein, And pawing, seems to beat the distant plain: Hills, vales, and floods appear already cross'd, And ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost. See the bold youth strain up the threatening steep, Rush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep, Hang o'er their coursers' heads with eager speed, And earth rolls back beneath the flying steed. Let old Arcadia boast her ample plain, The immortal huntress, and her virgin-train; 160 Nor envy, Windsor! since thy shades have seen As bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen,[44] Whose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign, The earth's fair light, and empress of the main. Here too, 'tis sung, of old Diana stray'd, And Cynthus' top forsook for Windsor shade; Here was she seen o'er airy wastes to rove, Seek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove; Here, arm'd with silver bows, in early dawn, Her buskin'd virgins traced the dewy lawn. 170 Above the rest a rural nymph was famed, Thy offspring, Thames! the fair Lodona named; (Lodona's fate, in long oblivion cast, The Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last). Scarce could the goddess from her nymph be known, But by the crescent and the golden zone. She scorn'd the praise of beauty, and the care; A belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair; A painted quiver on her shoulder sounds, And with her dart the flying deer she wounds. It chanced, as eager of the chase, the maid Beyond the forest's verdant limits stray'd, 180 Pan saw and loved, and, burning with desire, Pursued her flight, her flight increased his fire. Not half so swift the trembling doves can fly, When the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky; Not half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves, When through the clouds he drives the trembling doves; As from the god she flew with furious pace, Or as the god, more furious, urged the chase. Now fainting, sinking, pale the nymph appears; Now close behind, his sounding steps she hears; 190 And now his shadow reach'd her as she run, His shadow lengthen'd by the setting sun; And now his shorter breath, with sultry air, Pants on her neck, and fans her parting hair. In vain on father Thames she calls for aid, Nor could Diana help her injured maid. Faint, breathless, thus she pray'd, nor pray'd in vain: 'Ah, Cynthia! ah--though banish'd from thy train, Let me, oh! let me, to the shades repair, My native shades--there weep, and murmur there.' 200 She said, and melting as in tears she lay, In a soft, silver stream dissolved away. The silver stream her virgin coldness keeps, For ever murmurs, and for ever weeps; Still bears the name[45] the hapless virgin bore, And bathes the forest where she ranged before. In her chaste current oft the goddess laves,