A bull does o'er the waves Europa bear,And Proteus any form he pleases wear.How oft do we the Theban wonders read,Of serpent's teeth transform'd to human seed!Of dancing woods, and moving rocks, that throngTo hear sweet Orpheus, and Amphion's song ?How oft do the Heliades bemoan,In tears of gum, the fall of Phaeton!The sun from Atreus' table frightened flies,And backward drives his chariot in the skies.Those now are nymphs that lately were a fleet;Poetic license ever was so great.But none did credit to these fictions give,Or for true history such tales receive,And though Corinna in my songs is fair,Let none conclude she's like her picture there.The fable she with hasty faith receiv'd,And what, so very well she lik'd, believ'd.But since so ill she does the poet use,'Tis time her vanity to disabuse.