For he the wizard native’s pois’ning sight, That used the farmer’s hopeful crops to blight, In rage o’erwhelm’d with everlasting night. Cartheia’s ancient walls come next in view, Where once the sire almost a statue grew; With wonder, which a strange event did move, His daughter turn’d into a turtle-dove. Then Hyrie’s lake and Tempe’s field o’erran, Famed for the boy who there became a swan; For there enamour’d Phyllius, like a slave, Perform’d what tasks his paramour would crave. For presents he had mountain-vultures caught, And from the desert a tame lion brought; Then a wild bull commanded to subdue; The conquer’d savage by the horns he drew; But, mock’d so oft, the treatment he disdains, And from the craving boy this prize detains. Then thus in choler the resenting lad: “Won’t you deliver him? You’ll wish you had.” No sooner said, but, in a peevish mood, Leap’d from the precipice on which he stood. The standers-by were struck with fresh surprise, Instead of falling, to behold him rise A snowy swan, and soaring to the skies.