Meanwhile whate’er was in the power of flame Was all consumed; his body’s nervous frame No more was known; of human form bereft, The eternal part of Jove alone was left. As an old serpent casts his scaly vest, Writhes in the sun, in youthful glory dress’d, So when Alcides mortal mould resign’d, His better part enlarged, and grew refined; August his visage shone; almighty Jove In his swift car his honour’d offspring drove; High o’er the hollow clouds the coursers fly, And lodge the hero in the starry sky.