overs warns him not: he spurns
"An hated life. How! should he then be slain
"Because with me to live he wishes? Death
"Inglorious must he gain, reward of love?
"Hatred would such a conquest still attend.
"Still is not mine the fault. Do thou desist;
"Or if thy madness holds, O, that thy feet
"More swift may be! See in his youthful face
"What virgin beauties! Ah! Hippomenes,
"Would Atalanta thou had'st never seen.
"Well worthy thou of life. Were I more blest;
"Had rugged fate not me a spouse forbade,
"Thou, sole art he, by whom to Hymen's couch
"With joy I would be led.--Thus spoke the nymph,
"In fond simplicity, first touch'd by love,
"Unknowing what she felt: ardent she lov'd,
"Yet knew the passion not which rul'd her soul.

"Now loud the people, and the king demand,
"The wonted race. To me with anxious words
"Hippomenes, great Neptune's offspring pray'd--
"O Cytherea! I adjure thee, aid
"My bold attempt; from thee those flames I felt,
"Grant them thy succour.--Gales auspicious waft
"To me the tender prayers, my soul is mov'd:
"Nor long the aid so needful I delay.
"A tract there lies in Cyprus' richest lands,
"Nam'd Tamasene by those who dwell around,
"This ancient times made sacred unto me:
"And with this gift my temples were endow'd.
"'Midst of the field appears a shining tree;
"Yellow its leaves, its crackling branches gold.
"By chance there straying, from the boughs I pluck'd
"Three golden apples, bore them in my hand,
"And seen by none, except the favor'd youth,
"Approach'd Hippomenes, and taught their use.
"The trumpets gave the sign, each ready sprung--
"Shot from the barrier, and with rapid feet
"Skimm'd lightly o'er the sand. O'er the wide main
"With feet unwetted, they might seem to fly;
"Or sweep th' unbending ears of hoary grain.
"Loud shouts encouraging, and cheering words,
"On every side a stimulus afford,
"To urge the youth's exertions.--Now,--they cry,--
"Now, now, Hippomenes, the time to press!
"On, on! exert thy vigor--flag not now,--
"The race is thine.--The grateful sounds both heard,
"Megareus' son, and Schoeneus' daughter; hard
"Which joy'd the most to judge. How oft her pace
"She slacken'd, when with ease she might have pass'd,
"And ceas'd unwilling on his face to gaze.
"Tir'd now, parch'd breathings from the mouth ascends
"Of Neptune's son, and far remote the goal.
"Then, as