BETA

Atalanta.

To the hunt, through the forest, the mountain,
the field,1
In chase of the hind,2
Did he follow his darling, in hope she might yield ;3
Nor aye be unkind.4
But against love’s persuasions her bosom was steel’d.5
Nor entreaty, nor threat, did Milanion heed,6
But ventured the strife ;7
Tho’ death to the swain whom she conquered in speed.8
The maiden to wife,9
Precious hope for the hero, was victory’s meed.10
The youth, tho’ undaunted, bad striven in vain11
To merit her smiles,12
For as fleet as the roe could she bound o’er the plain.13
But innocent wiles14
Of the Goddess of Beauty avenged her disdain.15
For as maid Atalanta runs laughingly by16
Him panting and weak ;17
From his hand doth the gift of the Deity fly,18
Than Venus’s cheek19
More smooth to the touch and more fair to the eye.20
The radiant apple had none of the cold,21
Bright glitter, that chills22
The bosom of misers, who gaze upon gold,23
Till the heart quickly fills24
With unhallowed yearnings, the while they behold.25
But a mellower hue spread over the gleam26
Of this heavenly food.27
As it lay on the flowery sward, it would seem28
As tho ! it had wooed29
And won for its fere—like the rose—a sunbeam.30
And a bloom it played over the delicate skin,31
Transparent to show32
The ambrosia, that sparkled so brightly within.33
For mortal below34
Sure to taste so celestial a dainty ’twere sin.35
Could a daughter of Eve such temptation abide ?36
She yields to the spell !37
And again and again has forgotten her pride.38
The youth he runs well.39
Lo ! the goal he hath reached, and the maid is his
bride.40