Yet Telethusa still persists, to find Fit arguments to move a father’s mind, To extend his wishes to a larger scope, And in one vessel not confine his hope. Lygdus continues hard: her time drew near, And she her heavy load could scarcely bear, When slumbering, in the latter shades of night, Before the approaches of returning light, She saw, or thought she saw, before her bed, A glorious train, and Isis at their head: Her moony horns were on her forehead placed, And yellow sheaves her shining temples graced; A mitre, for a crown, she wore on high; The dog and dappled bull were waiting by; Osiris, sought along the banks of Nile: The silent god; the sacred crocodile; And, last, a long procession moving on With timbrels, that assist the labouring moon. Her slumbers seem’d dispell’d, and, broad awake, She heard a voice that thus distinctly spake: “My votary, thy babe from death defend, Nor fear to save whate’er the gods will send. Delude with art thy husband’s dire decree; When danger calls, repose thy trust on me,