Once on the banks where often she had play’d (Her father’s banks) she came, and there survey’d Her alter’d visage, and her branching head; And, starting, from herself she would have fled. Her fellow nymphs, familiar to her eyes, Beheld, but knew her not in this disguise; Ev’n Inachus himself was ignorant, And in his daughter did his daughter want. She follow’d where her fellows went, as she Were still a partner of the company: They stroke her neck; the gentle heifer stands, And her neck offers to their stroking hands. Her father gave her grass; the grass she took, And lick’d his palms, and cast a piteous look, And in the language of her eyes she spoke. She would have told her name, and ask’d relief, But wanting words, in tears she tells her grief; Which, with her foot she makes him understand, And prints the name of Io in the sand.