With dropping Tears his bitter Fate he moans,
And fills the Mountain with his dying Groans.
His Servants with a piteous Look he spies,
And turns about his supplicating Eyes.
His Servants, ignorant of what had chanc'd,
With eager Haste and joyful Shouts advanced,
And call'd their Lord Actæon to the Game;
He shook his Head in answer to the Name;
He heard, but wish'd he had indeed been gone,
Or only to have stood a Looker on.
But to his Grief he finds himself too near,
And feels his rav'nous Dogs with Fury tear
Their wretched Master panting in a Deer.
The Birth of Bacchus.
Actæon's Suff'rings, and Diana's Rage,
Did all the Thoughts of Men and Gods engage;
Some call'd the Evils, which Diana wrought,
Too great, and disproportion'd to the Fault:
Others again, esteem'd Actæon's Woes
Fit for a Virgin Goddess to impose.
The Hearers into diff'rent Parts divide,
And Reasons are produc'd on either Side.
Juno alone, of all that heard the News,
Nor would condemn the Goddess, nor excuse.
She heeded not the Justice of the Deed,
But joy'd to see the Race of Cadmus bleed;
For still she kept Europa in her Mind,
And, for her sake, detested all her Kind.
Besides, to aggravate her Hate, she heard
How Semele, to Joves Embrace preferr'd,
Was now grown big with an immortal Load,
And carry'd in her Womb a future God.
Thus terribly incens'd, the Goddess broke
To sudden Fury, and abruptly spoke.
