With these last words she leaps into the wain, Strokes the snakes’ necks, and shakes the golden rein; That signal given, they mount up is the skies, And now beneath her fruitful Tempe lies, Whose stores she ransacks; then to Crete she flies; There Ossa, Pelion, Othrys, Pindus, all To the fair ravisher a booty fall; The tribute of their verdure she collects, Nor proud Olympus’ height his plants protects. Some by the roots she plucks; the tender tops Of others with her culling sickle crops. Nor could the plunder of the hills suffice, Down to the humble vales and meads she flies. A pidanus, Amphrysus, the next rape Sustain, nor could Enipeus’ bank escape; Through Beebes marsh, and through the border ranged, Whose pasture Glaucus to a triton changed.