Venus these barb’rous sacrifices view’d With just abhorrence, and with wrath pursued. At first, to punish such nefarious crimes, Their towns she meant to leave, her once-loved climes. “But why,” said she, “for their offence should I My dear delightful plains and cities fly? No, let the impious people, who have sinn’d, A punishment in death or exile find: If death or exile too severe be thought, Let them in some vile shape bemoan their fault; While next her mind a proper form employs, Admonish’d by their horns, she fix’d her choice, Their former crest remains upon their heads, And their strong limbs an ox’s shape invades.

The blasphemous Propoetides denied Worship of Venus, and her power defied; Unknowing how to blush, and shameless grown, A small transition changes them to stone.