She, like a three-year colt unbroke,Is frisking o'er the spacious plain,Too shy to bear a lover's yoke,A husband's rein.The wood, the tiger, at thy callHave follow'd: thou caust rivers stay:The monstrous guard of Pluto's hallTo thee gave way,Grim Cerberus, round whose Gorgon headA hundred snakes are hissing death,Whose triple jaws black venom shed,And sickening breath.Ixion too and Tityos smooth'dTheir rugged brows: the urn stood dryOne hour, while Danaus' maids were sooth'dWith minstrelsy.