The snowy-arm’d she bare: her gloomy Dis
Snatch’d from her mother, and all-prudent Jove
Consign’d the prize. Next loved he the fair-hair’d
Mnemosyne: from her the Muses nine
Are born: their brows with golden fillets wreath’d;
Whom feasts delight, and rapture sweet of song.
In mingled joy with ægis-wielding Jove
Latona bore [236]the arrow-shooting Dian,
And Phœbus, loveliest of the heavenly tribe.
He last the blooming Juno led as bride: