‘Oh! whither, Arethusa, dost thou run?’ Naked I flew, nor could I stay to hide My limbs; my robe was on the other side: Alpheus follow’d fast; the inflaming sight Quicken’d his speed, and made his labour light: He sees me ready for his eager arms, And with a greedy glance devours my charms. As trembling doves from pressing danger fly, When the fierce hawk comes sousing from the sky, And as fierce hawks the trembling doves pursue, From him I fled, and after me he few. First by Orchomenus I took my flight, And soon had Psophis and Cyllene in sight; Behind me then high Maenalus I lost, And craggy Erimanthus, scaled with frost; Elis was next: thus far the ground I trod, With nimble feet, before the distanced god: But here I lagg’d, unable to sustain The labour longer, and my flight maintain; While he, more strong, more patient of the toil, And fired with hopes of beauty’s speedy spoil, Gain’d my lost ground, and, by redoubled pace, Now left between us but a narrow space. Unwearied I till now o’er hills and plains,