“Ah wretched me!” her mournful father cried; “She with a sigh to wretched me replied.” About her milk-white neck his arms he threw, And wept; and then these tender words ensue; “And art thou she whom I have sought around The world, and have at length so sadly found? So found, is worse than lost: with mutual words Thou answerest not; no voice thy tongue affords; But sighs are deeply drawn from out thy breast; And speech denied by lowing is express’d. Unknowing, I prepared thy bridal bed, With empty hopes of happy issue fed: But now the husband of a herd must be Thy mate, and bellowing sons thy progeny. O, were I mortal, death might bring relief; But now my godhead but extends my grief; Prolongs my woes, of which no end I see, And makes me curse my immortality!” More had he said, but fearful of her stay, The starry guardian drove his charge away To some fresh pasture; on a hilly height He sat himself, and kept her still in sight.