And as he wept, within the watery glass
  He saw the big round drops, with silent pace,
  Run trickling down a savage hairy face.
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  What should he do?  Or seek his old abodes,
  Or herd among the deer, and skulk in woods? 
  Here shame dissuades him, there his fear prevails,
  And each by turns his aching heart assails. 
     As he thus ponders, he behind him spies
  His opening hounds, and now he hears their cries: 
  A generous pack, or to maintain the chase,
  Or snuff the vapour from the scented grass. 
     He bounded off with fear, and swiftly ran
  O’er craggy mountains, and the flowery plain;
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  Through brakes and thickets forced his way, and flew
  Through many a ring, where once he did pursue. 
  In vain he oft endeavoured to proclaim
  His new misfortune, and to tell his name;
  Nor voice nor words the brutal tongue supplies;
  From shouting men, and horns, and dogs he flies,
  Deafened and stunned with their promiscuous cries. 
  When now the fleetest of the pack, that pressed
  Close at his heels, and sprung before the rest,
  Had fastened on him, straight another pair
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  Hung on his wounded haunch, and held him there,
  Till all the pack came up, and every hound
  Tore the sad huntsman, grovelling on the ground,
  Who now appeared but one continued wound. 
  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 chanced,
  With eager haste and joyful shouts advanced,
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  And called their lord Actaeon to the game: 
  He shook his head in answer to the name;
  He heard, but wished 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 ravenous dogs with fury tear
  Their wretched master, panting in a deer.

THE BIRTH OF BACCHUS.

     Actaeon’s sufferings, and Diana’s rage,
  Did all the thoughts of men and gods engage;
  Some called the evils which Diana wrought,
  Too great, and disproportioned to the fault: 
  Others, again, esteemed Actaeon’s woes
  Fit for a virgin goddess to impose. 
  The hearers into different parts divide,
  And reasons are produced on either side. 
     Juno alone, of all that heard the news,
  Nor would condemn the goddess, nor excuse: 
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  She heeded not the justice of the deed,
  But joyed 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 Jove’s embrace preferred,
  Was now grown big with an immortal load,
  And carried in her womb a future god.