Thus spoke the god, concealing his intent. The trusty Hermes on his message went, And found the herd of heifers wand’ring o’er A neighb’ring hill, and drove them to the shore Where the king’s daughter, with a lovely train Of fellow-nymphs, was sporting on the plain.

The dignity of empire laid aside (For love but ill agrees with kingly pride), The ruler of the skies, the thund’ring god, Who shakes the world’s foundations with a nod, Among a herd of lowing heifers ran, Frisk’d in a bull, and bellow’d o’er the plain. Large rolls of fat about his shoulders clung, And from his neck the double dewlap hung; His skin was whiter than the snow that lies Unsullied by the breath of southern skies: Small shining horns on his curl’d forehead stand, As turn’d and polish’d by the workman’s hand; His eyeballs roll’d, not formidably bright, But gazed and languish’d with a gentle light; His every look was peaceful, and express’d The softness of the lover in the beast.