May mortal wit Jove’s ordered plan deceive.
ANTISTROPHE II.
This lore my heart hath learned
From sight of thee, and thy sharp pains, Prometheus.
Alas! what diverse strain I sang thee then,
Around the bridal chamber,
And around the bridal bath,
When thou my sister fair, Hesione,
Won by rich gifts didst lead[n37]
From Ocean’s caves thy spousal bed to share.