In vain she called upon her attendants for help, the God bore her off to his dominions, and she became his bride.
"So in Sicilia's ever blooming shade,
The playful Proserpine from Ceres strayed.
Led with unwary step her virgin trains
O'er Etna's steeps, and Enna's golden plains;
Plucked with fair hand the silver blossomed bower,
And purpled mead,—herself a fairer flower;
Sudden, unseen amid the twilight glade,
Rushed gloomy Dis, and seized the trembling maid.