That Jove his education there receiv'd,Will raise her fame, and make her be believ'd;Nay she herself will never strive to hideHer love, 'tis too well known to be denied:She saw young Jasius in the Cretan grovePursue the deer, she saw, and fell in love.She then perceived when first she felt the fire,On this side modesty, on that desire;Desire prevail'd, and then the field grew dry,The farmer lost his crop and knew not why;When he had toil'd, manur'd his grounds, and plough' d,Harrow'd his fields, and broke his clods, and sow'd,No corn appear'd, none to reward his pain,His labour and his wishes were in vain.For Ceres wand'red in the woods and groves,And often heard, and often told her loves:Then Crete alone a fruitful summer knew,Where'er the goddess came a harvest grew.Ida was grey with corn, the furious boarGrew fat with wheat, and wonder'd at the store: