Serpents for hair, in ancient song we meet,And man and horse with wings instead of feet.Huge Tityon from the skies the poets flung,Encelladus's wars with Jove they sung;How by her spells, and by her voice, to beasts,The doubtful virgin chang'd her wretched guests;How Eolus did for Ulysses keepThe winds in bottles while he plough'd the deep:How Cerberus, three headed, guarded hell;And from his car the son of Phoebus fell:How thirsty Tantalus attempts to sipThe stream in vain, that flies his greedy lip:How Niobe in marble drops a tear,And a bright nymph was turn'd into a bear:How Progne, now a swallow, does bemoanHer sister nightingale, and pheasant son.In Leda, Danae, and Europa's rapes,They sing the king of gods in various shapes;A swan he lies on ravish'd Leda's breast,And Danae by a golden show'r compress'd;