“Now, at her lap arrived, the flattering boy Salutes his parent with a smiling joy; About her neck his little arms are thrown, And he accosts her in a prattling tone. ⋮ When Procne, on revengeful mischief bent, Home to his heart a piercing poniard sent. Itys, with rueful cries, but all too late, Holds out his hands, and deprecates his fate; Still at his mother’s neck he fondly aims, And strives to melt her with endearing names; Yet still the cruel mother perseveres, Nor with concern his bitter anguish hears. This might suffice; but Philomela too Across his throat a shining cutlass drew.”

Or perhaps the reference is to the Homeric legend of Philomela, Odyssey , XIX 518:⁠—