And as the Locks of Phœbus are unshorn,
So shall perpetual Green thy Boughs adorn.
The grateful Tree was pleas'd with what he said;
And shook the shady Honours of her Head.
The Transformation of Io into a Heyfer.
An ancient Forest in Thessalia grows;
Which Tempe's pleasing Valley does inclose:
Through this the rapid Peneus take his Course;
From Pindus rolling with impetuous force;
Mists from the River's mighty fall arise;
And deadly Damps inclose the cloudy Skies:
Perpetual Fogs are hanging o'er the Wood;
And sounds of Waters deaf the Neighbourhood.
Deep in a rocky cave, he makes abode:
(A Mansion proper for a mourning God.)
Here he gives Audience; issuing out Decrees
To Rivers, his dependant Deities.
On this Occasion hither they resort;
To pay their Homage, and to make their Court.
All doubtful, whether to congratulate
His Daughter's Honour, or lament her Fate.
Sperchæus, crown'd with Poplar, first appears;
Then old Apidanus came crown'd with Years:
Enipeus turbulent, Amphrysos tame;
And Æas last with lagging Waters came.
Then, of his Kindred Brooks, a num'rous Throng
Condole his loss; and bring their Urns along.
Not one was wanting of the watry Train,
That fill'd his Flood, or mingled with the Main:
But Inachus, who in his Cave, alone,
Wept not another's Losses, but his own.
For his dear Io, whether stray'd, or Dead,
To him uncertain, doubtful Tears he shed.
