Then the Almighty Father made the round
Of the great walls of Heaven; [...] As he went
About his business there, he caught a glimpse
Of an Arcadian girl, a nymph, and fire
Ran through his marrow-bones. [...] Diana’s maiden,
With spear or bow, she wandered, and her goddess
Held her most dear, but no one’s hold on dearness
Lasts very long.
The sun was high in the heaven
And the nymph entered the woods that no year ever
Had put an axe to. She slung off the quiver,
Unstrung the stubborn bow, and on the ground
All green with grass, lay down, and the bright quiver
Was a pillow for her head. And as Jove saw her
Tired out, and no one watching, he did some thinking:
Juno will never catch me here, he figured,
Or if she does, well, well, it might be worth it.
So he put on Diana’s face and garments
And said: “Dear maiden, where have you been hunting?”
She rose from the green turf. “All hail, great goddess!
Greater, I think, than Jove, and he might hear me
For all I care.” Jove, listening, laughed, rejoicing
To be preferred even to himself, and kissed her
The way a maiden does not kiss, or should not,
And just as she was starting in to tell him
What forest she had hunted, he stopped the story
And gave himself away with his embracing.
She really struggled against him (even Juno,
Had she been there to see, might have forgiven)
But girls are frail, and anyway, who could conquer
The might of Jove?
[translated by Rolfe Humphries]