“When now Alcides’ mighty birth drew nigh, And the tenth sign roll’d forward on the sky, My sides extend with such a mighty load, As Jove the parent of the burden show’d. I could no more the increasing smart sustain, My horror kindles to recount the pain; Cold chills my limbs while I the tale pursue, And now methinks I feel my pangs anew. Seven days and nights amid incessant throes, Fatigued with ills I lay, nor knew repose; When lifting high my hands, in shrieks I pray’d, Implored the gods, and call’d Lucina’s aid. She came, but prejudiced, to give my fate A sacrifice to vengeful Juno’s hate. She hears the groaning anguish of my fits, And on the altar at my door she sits. O’er her left knee her crossing leg she cast, Then knits her fingers close, and wrings them fast: This stay’d the birth; in mutt’ring verse she pray’d; The mutt’ring verse the unfinish’d birth delay’d. Now with fierce struggles, raging with my pain, At Jove’s ingratitude I rage in vain. How did I wish for death! such groans I sent, As might have made the flinty heart relent.