A nymph presides, nor practised in the chase,

Nor skilful at the bow, nor at the race;

Of all the blue-eyed daughters of the main,

The only stranger to Diana's train;

Her sisters often, as 'tis said, would cry

'Fye, Salmaeis, what always idle! fye;

Or take the quiver, or the arrows seize

And mix the toils of hunting with thy ease.'

Nor quivers she, nor arrows e'er would seize,

Nor mix the toils of hunting with her ease;