Kitap 3
Soon as the news of Aura reach'd her ears,
With jealousy surpris'd. and fainting fears,
Her rosy colour fled her lovely face,
And agonies like death supplied the place;
Pale she appear'd as are the falling leaves
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When first the vine the winter's blast receives.
Of ripen'd quinces, such the yellow hue,
Or, when unripe, we cornel-berries view.
Reviving from her swoon, her robes she tore,
Nor her own faultless face to wound forbore;
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Now all dishevell'd to the woods she flies,
With Bacchanalian fury in her eyes.The priestesses and priests of Bacchus, who celebrated the festival of that god, did it with the noise of shouts, drums, timbrels, and cymbals, were crowned with ivy, vine, etc., and carried a thyrsus or staff wove with it in their hands; they were frantic and outrageous in their actions during the cerremony.
Thither arriv'd, she leaves below her friends,
And all alone the shady hill ascends.
What fully, Procris, o'er thy mind prevail'd?
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What rage, thus fatally to lie conceal'd?
"Who'er this Aura be," such was thy thought,
"She now shall in the very fact be caught "
Anon thy heart repents its rash designs,
And now to go, and now to stay, inclines;
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