Because so like a fisherman he treats him.
Diana, the sweet virgin, was not there;
She had risen early, and o’er woodland green
Had gone to wash her clothes in fountain fair
Upon the Tuscan shore—romantic scene.
And not returning till the northern star
Had rolled through dusky air and lost its sheen,
Her mother made excuses, quite provoking,
Knitting, at the same time, a worsted stocking.
Juno-Lucina did not go—and why?