Like wood-land flowers, which paint the deſert glades,

And waſte their ſweets in unfrequented ſhades. ⁠40
No human face ſhe ſaw, and rarely ſeen
By human face: a ſolitary queen
She rul'd, and rang'd, her ſhady empire round.
No horn the ſilent huntreſs bears; no hound, ⁠44
With noiſy cry, diſturbs her ſolemn chace,
Swift, as the bounding ſtag, ſhe wings her pace;
And, bend when-e'er ſhe will her ebon bow,
A ſpeedy death arreſts the flying foe. ⁠48
The bow the hunting goddeſs firſt fupply'd,
And ivory quiver croſs her ſhoulders ty'd.

⁠The imperious queen of heaven, with jealous eyes,
Beholds the blooming virgin from the skies, ⁠52
At once admires, and dreads, her growing charms,
And ſees the god already in her arms:
In vain, ſhe finds, her bitter tongue reproves
His broken vows, and his clandeſtine loves: ⁠56
Jove ſtill continues frail: and all in vain
Does Thule, in obſcureſt ſhades remain,
While Maja's ſon, the thunderer's winged ſpy,

Informs him where the lurking beauties ly. ⁠60