While with yoked swans the goddess cuts the skies His faithful hounds, led by the tainted wind, Lodged in thick coverts chanced a boar to find. The callow hero show’d a manly heart, And pierced the savage with a sidelong dart: The flying savage, wounded, turn’d again, Wrench’d out the gory dart, and foam’d with pain. The trembling boy by flight his safety sought, And now recall’d the lore which Venus taught: But now, too late, to fly the boar he strove, Who in the groin his tusks impetuous drove: On the discolour’d grass Adonis lay⁠— The monster trampling o’er his beauteous prey.