These blandishments, and more than these, I said (By Fate to unsuspected ruin led). ‘Thou art my joy; for thy dear sake I love Each desert hill and solitary grove; When (faint with labour) I refreshment need, For cordials on thy fragrant breath I feed.’ At last a wandering swain in hearing came, And, cheated with the sound of Aura’s name, He thought I had some assignation made, And to my Procris’ ear the news convey’d. Great love is soonest with suspicion fired: She swoon’d, and with the tale almost expired. ‘Ah, wretched heart!’ she cried, ‘ah, faithless man!’ And then to curse the imagined nymph began: Yet oft she doubts, oft hopes she is deceived, And chides herself, that ever she believed Her lord to such injustice could proceed, Till she herself were witness of the deed. Next morn I to the woods again repair, And, weary with the chase, invoke the air. ‘Approach, dear Aura, and my bosom cheer:’ At which a mournful sound did strike my ear: Yet I proceeded, till the thicket by, With rustling noise and motion, drew my eye.