Kitap 1
She strok'd, she fed him with her royal hand;
Was pleas'd in pastures with the herd to roam,
And Minos by the bull was overcome.
Cease, Queen, with gems t'adorn thy beauteous brows,
340
The monarch of thy heart no jewel knows.
Nor in thy glass compose thy looks and eyes;
Secure from all thy charms thy lover lies:
Yet trust thy mirror, when it tells thee true,
Thou art no heifer to allure his view.
345
Soon wouldst thou quit thy royal diadem
To thy fair rivals; to be horned like them.
If Minos please, no lover seek to find;
If not, at least seek one of human kind.
The wretched queen the Cretan court forsakes;
350
In woods and wilds her habitation makes;
She curses ev'ry beauteous cow she sees;
"Ah, why dost thou my lord and master please!
And think'st, ungrateful creature as thou art,
With frisking awkardly to gain his heart."
355
She said; and straight commands with frowning look,
