“But you, perhaps, may think I was removed As never by the heavenly maid beloved: But I was loved; ask Pallas if I lie; Though Pallas hates me now, she wont deny. For I, whom in a feather’d shape you view, Was once a maid, by heaven the story’s true! A blooming maid, and a king’s daughter too. A crowd of lovers own’d my beauty’s charms; My beauty was the cause of all my harms; Neptune, as on his shores I wont to rove, Observed me in my walks, and fell in love. He made his courtship, he confess’d his pain, And offer’d force when all his arts were vain: Swift he pursued; I ran along the strand, Till spent and wearied on the sinking sand, I shriek’d aloud, with cries I fill’d the air To gods and men, nor god nor man was there: A virgin goddess heard a virgin’s prayer. For, as my arms I lifted to the skies, I saw black feathers from my fingers rise; I strove to fling my garment on the ground, My garment turn’d to plumes, and girt me round; My hands to beat my naked bosom try, Nor naked bosom now nor hands had I;