The Transformation of Io into a Heyfer
1:770 An ancient forest in Thessalia grows;
1:771 Which Tempe's pleasing valley
does inclose:
1:772 Through this the rapid Peneus
take his course;
1:773 From Pindus rolling with impetuous
force;
1:774 Mists from the river's mighty
fall arise:
1:775 And deadly damps inclose the
cloudy skies:
1:776 Perpetual fogs are hanging o'er
the wood;
1:777 And sounds of waters deaf the
neighbourhood.
1:778 Deep, in a rocky cave, he makes
abode
1:779 (A mansion proper for a mourning
God).
1:780 Here he gives audience; issuing
out decrees
1:781 To rivers, his dependant deities.
1:782 On this occasion hither they
resort;
1:783 To pay their homage, and to make
their court.
1:784 All doubtful, whether to congratulate
1:785 His daughter's honour, or lament
her fate.
1:786 Sperchaeus, crown'd with poplar,
first appears;
1:787 Then old Apidanus came crown'd
with years:
1:788 Enipeus turbulent, Amphrysos
tame;
1:789 And Aeas last with lagging waters
came.
1:790 Then, of his kindred brooks,
a num'rous throng
1:791 Condole his loss; and bring their
urns along.
1:792 Not one was wanting of the wat'ry
train,
1:793 That fill'd his flood, or mingled
with the main:
1:794 But Inachus, who in his cave,
alone,
1:795 Wept not another's losses, but
his own,
1:796 For his dear Io, whether stray'd,
or dead,
1:797 To him uncertain, doubtful tears
he shed.
1:798 He sought her through the world;
but sought in vain;
1:799 And no where finding, rather
fear'd her slain.
1:800 Her, just returning from her father's brook,
1:801 Jove had beheld, with a desiring
look:
1:802 And, Oh fair daughter of the
flood, he said,
1:803 Worthy alone of Jove's imperial
bed,
1:804 Happy whoever shall those charms
possess;
1:805 The king of Gods (nor is thy
lover less)
1:806 Invites thee to yon cooler shades;
to shun
1:807 The scorching rays of the meridian
sun.
1:808 Nor shalt thou tempt the dangers
of the grove
1:809 Alone, without a guide; thy guide
is Jove.
1:810 No puny Pow'r, but he whose high
command
1:811 Is unconfin'd, who rules the
seas and land;
1:812 And tempers thunder in his awful
hand,
1:813 Oh fly not: for she fled from
his embrace
1:814 O'er Lerna's pastures: he pursu'd
the chace
1:815 Along the shades of the Lyrcaean
plain;
1:816 At length the God, who never
asks in vain,
1:817 Involv'd with vapours, imitating
night,
1:818 Both Air, and Earth; and then
suppress'd her flight,
1:819 And mingling force with love,
enjoy'd the full delight.
1:820 Mean-time the jealous Juno, from on high,
1:821 Survey'd the fruitful fields
of Arcady;
1:822 And wonder'd that the mist shou'd
over-run
1:823 The face of day-light, and obscure
the sun.
1:824 No nat'ral cause she found, from
brooks, or bogs,
1:825 Or marshy lowlands, to produce
the fogs;
1:826 Then round the skies she sought
for Jupiter,
1:827 Her faithless husband; but no
Jove was there:
1:828 Suspecting now the worst, Or
I, she said,
1:829 Am much mistaken, or am much
betray'd.
1:830 With fury she precipitates her
flight:
1:831 Dispels the shadows of dissembled
night;
1:832 And to the day restores his native
light.
1:833 Th' Almighty Leacher, careful
to prevent
1:834 The consequence, foreseeing her
descent,
1:835 Transforms his mistress in a
trice; and now
1:836 In Io's place appears a lovely
cow.
1:837 So sleek her skin, so faultless
was her make,
1:838 Ev'n Juno did unwilling pleasure
take
1:839 To see so fair a rival of her
love;
1:840 And what she was, and whence,
enquir'd of Jove:
1:841 Of what fair herd, and from what
pedigree?
1:842 The God, half caught, was forc'd
upon a lye:
1:843 And said she sprung from Earth.
She took the word,
1:844 And begg'd the beauteous heyfer
of her lord.
1:845 What should he do? 'twas equal
shame to Jove
1:846 Or to relinquish, or betray his
love:
1:847 Yet to refuse so slight a gift,
wou'd be
1:848 But more t' increase his consort's
jealousie:
1:849 Thus fear, and love, by turns,
his heart assail'd;
1:850 And stronger love had sure, at
length, prevail'd:
1:851 But some faint hope remain'd,
his jealous queen
1:852 Had not the mistress through
the heyfer seen.
1:853 The cautious Goddess, of her
gift possest,
1:854 Yet harbour'd anxious thoughts
within her breast;
1:855 As she who knew the falshood
of her Jove;
1:856 And justly fear'd some new relapse
of love.
1:857 Which to prevent, and to secure
her care,
1:858 To trusty Argus she commits the
fair.
1:859 The head of Argus (as with stars the skies)
1:860 Was compass'd round, and wore
an hundred eyes.
1:861 But two by turns their lids in
slumber steep;
1:862 The rest on duty still their
station keep;
1:863 Nor cou'd the total constellation
sleep.
1:864 Thus, ever present, to his eyes,
and mind,
1:865 His charge was still before him,
tho' behind.
1:866 In fields he suffer'd her to
feed by Day,
1:867 But when the setting sun to night
gave way,
1:868 The captive cow he summon'd with
a call;
1:869 And drove her back, and ty'd
her to the stall.
1:870 On leaves of trees, and bitter
herbs she fed,
1:871 Heav'n was her canopy, bare earth
her bed:
1:872 So hardly lodg'd, and to digest
her food,
1:873 She drank from troubled streams,
defil'd with mud.
1:874 Her woeful story fain she wou'd
have told,
1:875 With hands upheld, but had no
hands to hold.
1:876 Her head to her ungentle keeper
bow'd,
1:877 She strove to speak, she spoke
not, but she low'd:
1:878 Affrighted with the noise, she
look'd around,
1:879 And seem'd t' inquire the author
of the sound.
1:880 Once on the banks where often she had play'd
1:881 (Her father's banks), she came,
and there survey'd
1:882 Her alter'd visage, and her branching
head;
1:883 And starting, from her self she
wou'd have fled.
1:884 Her fellow nymphs, familiar to
her eyes,
1:885 Beheld, but knew her not in this
disguise.
1:886 Ev'n Inachus himself was ignorant;
1:887 And in his daughter, did his
daughter want.
1:888 She follow'd where her fellows
went, as she
1:889 Were still a partner of the company:
1:890 They stroak her neck; the gentle
heyfer stands,
1:891 And her neck offers to their
stroaking hands.
1:892 Her father gave her grass; the
grass she took;
1:893 And lick'd his palms, and cast
a piteous look;
1:894 And in the language of her eyes,
she spoke.
1:895 She wou'd have told her name,
and ask'd relief,
1:896 But wanting words, in tears she
tells her grief.
1:897 Which, with her foot she makes
him understand;
1:898 And prints the name of Io in
the sand.
1:899 Ah wretched me! her mournful father cry'd;
1:900 She, with a sigh, to wretched
me reply'd:
1:901 About her milk-white neck, his
arms he threw;
1:902 And wept, and then these tender
words ensue.
1:903 And art thou she, whom I have
sought around
1:904 The world, and have at length
so sadly found?
1:905 So found, is worse than lost:
with mutual words
1:906 Thou answer'st not, no voice
thy tongue affords:
1:907 But sighs are deeply drawn from
out thy breast;
1:908 And speech deny'd, by lowing
is express'd.
1:909 Unknowing, I prepar'd thy bridal
bed;
1:910 With empty hopes of happy issue
fed.
1:911 But now the husband of a herd
must be
1:912 Thy mate, and bell'wing sons
thy progeny.
1:913 Oh, were I mortal, death might
bring relief:
1:914 But now my God-head but extends
my grief:
1:915 Prolongs my woes, of which no
end I see,
1:916 And makes me curse my immortality!
1:917 More had he said, but fearful
of her stay,
1:918 The starry guardian drove his
charge away,
1:919 To some fresh pasture; on a hilly
height
1:920 He sate himself, and kept her
still in sight.