CLAUDIAN.
RAPE OF PROSERPINE.
BOOK I.
The steeds of darkness, and the robber King,
My labouring spirit bids me dare to sing;
The car, whose sickening blight the pale stars fled,
And subterranean Juno's gloomy bed.
Hence, ye profane! all earth-born thoughts are gone,
And Phœbus reigns within my breast, alone.
See! the shrines tremble: through the proud abode
Clear streams of light attest the coming God!
The deep earth groans! Cecropia's temple rings,
And high her holy brands Eleusis flings!
Thy snakes, Triptolemus, with hissing tongue,
Lift their worn necks, and, as they glide along,
Incline their rosy crests, and listen to the song.
