Hence we derive our nature; born to bear Laborious life, and harden’d into care.

The rest of animals, from teeming earth Produced, in various forms received their birth. The native moisture, in its close retreat, Digested by the sun’s ethereal heat, As in a kindly womb, began to breed, Then swell’d, and quicken’d by the vital seed. And some in less, and some in longer space, Were ripen’d into form, and took a several face. Thus when the Nile from Pharian fields is fled, And seeks, with ebbing tides, his ancient bed, The fat manure with heavenly fire is warm’d, And crusted creatures, as in wombs, are form’d; These, when they turn the glebe, the peasants find; Some rude, and yet unfinish’d in their kind; Short of their limbs, a lame imperfect birth; One half alive, and one of lifeless earth.

The laurel was not yet for triumphs born, But every green, alike by Phoebus worn, Did, with promiscuous grace, his flowing locks adorn.

For heat and moisture, when in bodies join’d, The temper that results from either kind Conception makes, and fighting till they mix, Their mingled atoms in each other fix. Thus Nature’s hand the genial bed prepares, With friendly discord and with fruitful wars.

From hence the surface of the ground, with mud And slime besmear’d (the feces of the flood), Received the rays of heaven, and sucking in The seeds of heat, new creatures did begin: Some were of several sorts produced before; But of new monsters earth created more. Unwillingly, but yet she brought to light Thee, Python too, the wond’ring world to fright, And the new nations, with so dire a sight: So monstrous was his bulk, so large a space Did his vast body and long train embrace; Whom Phoebus, basking on a bank, espied: Ere now the god his arrows had not tried, But on the trembling deer, or mountain goat: At this new quarry he prepares to shoot. Though every shaft took place, he spent the store Of his full quiver; and ’twas long before The expiring serpent wallow’d in his gore. Then, to preserve the fame of such a deed, For Python slain, he Pythian games decreed; Where noble youths for mastership should strive To quoit, to run, and steeds and chariots drive. The prize was fame: in witness of renown An oaken garland did the victor crown.

Daphne, a daughter of the river Peneus, is beloved by Apollo and endeavours to remove herself from his importunities by flight⁠—Fearful of being overtaken, the maiden invokes thy assistance of her father, who, by the aid of the gods, changes her into a laurel.

The first and fairest of his loves was she Whom not blind Fortune, but the dire decree Of angry Cupid forced him to desire: Daphne her name, and Peneus was her sire. Swell’d with the pride that new success attends, He sees the stripling, while his bow he bends, And thus insults him: “Thou lascivious boy, Are arms like these for children to employ? Know, such achievements are my proper claim, Due to my vigour and unerring aim; Resistless are my shafts, and Python late, In such a feather’d death, has found his fate. Take up thy torch (and lay my weapons by), With that the feeble souls of lovers fry.” To whom the son of Venus thus replied: “Phoebus, thy shafts are sure on all beside; But mine on Phoebus; mine the fame shall be Of all thy conquests, when I conquer thee.”