“Nor could thy form, oh Cyllarus, foreslow Thy fate: (if form to monsters men allow:) Just bloom’d thy beard; thy beard of golden hue: Thy locks in golden waves about thy shoulders flew: Sprightly thy look! Thy shapes in every part So clean, as might instruct the sculptor’s art, As far as man extended: where began The beast, the beast was equal to the man: Add but a horse’s head and neck, and he, Oh Castor, was a courser worthy thee: So was his back proportion’d for the seat; So rose his brawny chest; so swiftly moved his feet: Coal black his colour, but like jet it shone; His legs and flowing tail were white alone: Beloved by many maidens of his kind; But fair Hylonome possess’d his mind; Hylonome, for features, and for face, Excelling all the nymphs of double race: Nor less her blandishments than beauty move; At once both living, and confessing love. For him she dress’d; for him, with female care, She comb’d, and set in curl her auburn hair: Of roses, violets, and lilies mix’d, And sprigs of flowing rosemary betwixt,