Ἀρτέμιδι ἰκέλη ἠὲ χρυσέῃ Ἀφροδίτῃ
Pope thus:
“The beauteous cheeks the blush of Venus wear,
Chastened with coy Diana’s pensive air.”
And then, in plain English, “Weeping, she threw her arms about her dear boy, and kissed his brow and his two fair eyes, and murmuring plaintively, spake these winged words!”
But Pope, doubtless in wig and ruffles, thus:
“Hangs o’er her son, in his embraces dies;
Rains kisses on his neck, his face, his eyes;
Few words she spoke, though much she had to say.
And scarce those few, for tears, could force their way.”