This dire experiment he chose to prove If I were mortal, or undoubted Jove: But first he had resolved to taste my power. Not long before, but in a luckless hour, Some legates, sent from the Molossian state, Were on a peaceful errand come to treat; Of these he murders one, he boils the flesh, And lays the mangled morsels in a dish; Some part he roasts, then serves it up, so dress’d, And bids me welcome to this human feast. Moved with disdain, the table I o’erturn’d, And with avenging flames the palace burn’d. The tyrant, in a fright, for shelter gains The neighb’ring fields, and scours along the plains; Howling he fled, and fain he would have spoke, But human voice his brutal tongue forsook; About his lips the gather’d foam he churns, And, breathing slaughters, still with rage he burns, But on the bleating flock his fury turns. His mantle, now his hide, with rugged hairs Cleaves to his back, a famish’d face he bears, His arms descend, his shoulders sink away To multiply his legs for chase of prey; He grows a wolf, his hoariness remains,