Battus, a shepherd of Pylos, promises Mercury that he will not reveal his theft of the flocks of Admetus, which Apollo tended—The promise is violated, and Battus turned into a pumice-stone.
Sore wept the centaur, and to Phoebus pray’d. But how could Phoebus give the centaur aid? Degraded of his power by angry Jove, In Elis then a herd of bees he drove, And wielded in his hand a staff of oak, And o’er his shoulders threw the shepherd’s cloak. On seven compacted reeds he used to play, And on his rural pipe to waste the day.