And there, upon the bank, before her face—
His end was wrought by his own dogs of chase.
(To contemplate his end we stand aghast;
For dire indeed was the poor stripling’s last!)
Among the other goddesses and nymphs,
We scan the circle, and at once we glimpse
Good Agenora, most industrious child,
Laborious maiden on the barren wild;
Who toil’d for ages, and (’twas not in vain)
Made a vast wilderness bear lovely grain: