He said; their king th’ inferior powers obeyed:
The fictile likeness of a bashful maid
Rose from the temper’d earth, by Jove’s behest,
Under the forming God; the zone and vest
Were clasp’d and folded by Minerva’s hand:
The heaven-born graces, and persuasion bland
Deck’d her round limbs with chains of gold: the hours
Of loose locks twined her temples with spring flowers.
The whole attire Minerva’s curious care
Form’d to her shape, and fitted to her air.