When Ceres has obtained from Jupiter her daughter’s freedom and return to earth, provided she has eaten nothing in the kingdom of Pluto, the goddess hastens to the infernal regions, and finds that Proserpine has already partaken of the fruit of the pomegranate-tree by the testimony of Ascalaphus, whose loquacity is punished by his transformation into an owl.
The goddess now, resolving to succeed, Down to the gloomy shades descends with speed; But adverse fate had otherwise decreed; For, long before, her giddy, thoughtless child Had broke her fast, and all her projects spoil’d. As in the garden’s shady walk she stray’d, A fair pomegranate charm’d the simple maid, Hung in her way, and tempting her to taste, She pluck’d the fruit, and took a short repast. Seven times, a seed at once, she eat the food: The fact Ascalaphus had only view’d, Whom Acheron begot, in Stygian shades, On Orphne, famed among Avernal maids; He saw what pass’d, and, by discovering all, Detain’d the ravish’d nymph in cruel thrall.