20
Clothe her in arms—she wears Minerva's mien:
With shafts provide her—'tis the huntress Queen.
A jasper brooch, her gathered vest confined:
Ne'er had the loom more lively truth designed;
Nor Art with Nature closer union made:
There Hyperion's offspring it pourtrayed,
Effulgent Sol, and Cynthia's lesser light,
Alternate rulers of the day and night.
Fond Tethys watches o'er their breathing rest,
And soothes them cradled on her azure breast.
Its hue the nurslings' rosy radiance shares;
On her right arm the Titan boy she bears;
Not yet oppressive with his pomp of rays,
The virile glory of maturer days;
But faint as infant utterances, and low,
His fires emitted shed their tender glow.
His sister on the left, in eager mood,
Drains the translucent bosom of its food,
While hardly from her brow minutest horns protrude.
Such is her costly garb: on either hand
The Naids round her form their circling band,
Who haunt thy founts, Crinisus, and abide
Where rocks whirl down Pantagia's torrent tide.
