But as the god walk’d to and fro the earth, And raised the plants, and gave the spring its birth, By chance a fair Arcadian nymph he view’d, And felt the lovely charmer in his blood. The nymph nor spun nor dress’d with artful pride. Her vest was gather’d up, her hair was tied: Now in her hand a slender spear she bore, Now a light quiver on her shoulders wore; To chaste Diana from her youth inclined, The sprightly warriors of the wood she join’d. Diana too the gentle huntress loved, Nor was there one of all the nymphs that roved O’er Maenalus, amid the maiden throng, More favour’d once; but favour lasts not long.