The grateful Tree was pleased with what he said, And shook the shady honours of her head. THE TRANSFORMATION OF IO INTO AN HEIFER. An ancient forest in Thessalia grows, Which Tempe's pleasant valley does inclose; Through this the rapid Peneus takes his course, From Pindus rolling with impetuous force; Mists from the river's mighty fall arise, And deadly damps inclose the cloudy skies; Perpetual fogs are hanging o'er the wood, And sounds of waters deaf the neighbourhood. Deep in a rocky cave he makes abode; A mansion proper for a mourning god. Here he gives audience; issuing out decrees To rivers, his dependent deities. On this occasion hither they resort, To pay their homage, and to make their court; All doubtful, whether to congratulate His daughter's honour, or lament her fate. Sperchæus, crowned with poplar, first appears; Then old Apidanus came, crowned with years; Enipeus turbulent, Amphrysos tame, And Æas, last, with lagging waters came. Then of his kindred brooks a numerous throng Condole his loss, and bring their urns along: Not one was wanting of the watery train, That filled his flood, or mingled with the main, But Inachus, who, in his cave alone, Wept not another's losses, but his own; For his dear Io, whether strayed, or dead, To him uncertain, doubtful tears he shed. He sought her through the world, but sought in vain; And no where finding, rather feared her slain. Her, just returning from her father's brook, Jove had beheld with a desiring look; And, oh, fair daughter of the flood, he said, Worthy alone of Jove's imperial bed, Happy whoever shall those charms possess! The king of gods, (nor is thy lover less,) Invites thee to yon cooler shades, to shun The scorching rays of the meridian sun. Nor shalt thou tempt the dangers of the grove Alone without a guide; thy guide is Jove. No puny power, but he, whose high command } Is unconfined, who rules the seas and land, } And tempers thunder in his awful hand. } Oh fly not!--for she fled from his embrace O'er Lerna's pastures; he pursued the chace, Along the shades of the Lyrcæan plain. At length the god, who never asks in vain, Involved with vapours, imitating night, } Both air and earth; and then suppressed her flight, } And, mingling force with love, enjoyed the full delight. } Meantime the jealous Juno, from on high, Surveyed the fruitful fields of Arcady; And wondered that the mist should over-run The face of day-light, and obscure the sun. No natural cause she found, from brooks or bogs, Or marshy lowlands, to produce the fogs: Then round the skies she sought for Jupiter, Her faithless husband; but no Jove was there. Suspecting now the worst,--Or I, she said,