Erisichthon impiously derides the worship of Ceres, whose groves he destroys.
In various shapes thus to deceive the eyes, Without a settled stint of her disguise, Rash Erisichthon’s daughter had the power, And brought it to Autolycus in dower. Her atheist sire the slighted gods defied, And ritual honours to their shrines denied. As fame reports, his hand an axe sustain’d, Which Ceres’ consecrated grove profaned; Which durst the venerable gloom invade, And violate with light the awful shade. An ancient oak in the dark centre stood, The covert’s glory, and itself a wood: Garlands embraced its shaft, and from the boughs Hung tablets, monuments of prosp’rous vows. In the cool dusk its unpierced verdure spread, The dryads oft their hallow’d dances led; And oft, when round their gauging arms they cast, Full fifteen ells it measured in the waist: Its height all under-standards did surpass, As they aspired above the humbler grass.