The Transformation of Battus
to a Touch-stone.
Sore wept the Centaur, and to Phœbus pray'd;
But how could Phœbus give the Centaur Aid?
Degraded of his Pow'r by angry Jove,
In Elis then a Herd of Beeves he drove;
And wielded in his Hand a Staff of Oak,
And o'er his Shoulders threw the Shepherd's Cloak;
On sev'n compacted Reeds he us'd to play,
And on his Rural Pipe to waste the Day.
As once, attentive to his Pipe, he play'd,
The crafty Hermes from the God convey'd
A Drove, that sep'rate from their Fellows stray'd.
The Theft an old insidious Peasant view'd,
(They call'd him Battus in the Neighbourhood)
Hir'd by a wealthy Pylian Prince to feed
His fav'rite Mares, and watch the gen'rous Breed.
The thievish God suspected him, and took
The Hind aside, and thus in Whispers spoke;
"Discover not the Theft, whoe'er thou be,
"And take that milk-white Heifer for thy Fee.
"Go, Stranger, cries the Clown, securely on,
"That Stone shall sooner tell, and show'd a Stone.
The God withdrew, but strait return'd again,
In Speech and Habit like a Country Swain;
And cries out, "Neighbour, hast thou seen a Stray
"Of Bullocks and of Heifers pass this Way?
"In the Recov'ry of my Cattle join,
"A Bullock and a Heifer shall be thine.
The Peasant quick replies, "You'll find 'em there
"In yon dark Vale; and in the Vale they were.
The Double Bribe had his false Heart beguil'd:
The God, successful in the Tryal, smil'd;
