No complaisance forgot, no policy of love;
But when he saw his prayers and arts had failed,
Bold with desire his passion he revealed,
Confessed the secret god, and force applied.
To heaven for aid the modest virgin cried:
‘Ye rural powers, preserve a nymph from shame!’
And, worthy of her wish, a flower became.
Her golden caul that shone with sparkling hair,
The lace and ribbons which adorned the fair,
To leaves are changed; her breast a stem is made,