The eager prince then urged him to impart The fortune that attended on the dart. “First then,” said he, “past joys let me relate; For bliss was the foundation of my fate: No language can those happy hours express, Did from our nuptials me and Procris bless: The kindest pair! What more could Heaven confer? For she was all to me, and I to her. Had Jove made love, great Jove had been despised; And I my Procris more than Venus prized. Thus while no other joy we did aspire, We grew at last one soul and one desire. Forth to the woods I went at break of day (The constant practice of my youth), for prey; Nor yet for servant, horse, or dog, did call⁠— I found this single dart to serve for all. With slaughter tired, I sought the cooler shade, And winds that from the mountains pierced the glade. ‘Come, gentle air,’ so was I wont to say, ‘Come, gentle air⁠—sweet Aura, come away.’ This always was the burden of my song⁠— ‘Come ’suage my flames⁠—sweet Aura, come along: Thou always art most welcome to my breast; I faint; approach, thou dearest, kindest guest!’