Ne’er plied Minerva’s ministries:
A virgin in the fight she stands,
Or winged winds in speed outvies.
Nay, she might fly o’er fields of grain
Nor crush in flight the tapering wheat, 10
Or skim the surface of the main,
Nor let the billows touch her feet.
Where’er she moves, from house and land
The youths and ancient matrons throng,
And fixed in greedy wonder stand 15