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trusted to unman the lad, but the son of Phoebus with quiet skill gently bids his body lose its sex, unmarred by any wound. But Cytherea is devoured by anxious care, and fears lest the boy suffer. Not yet had the noble clemency of our prince^[1] begun to keep our males untouched from birth; to-day it is forbidden to destroy sex and violate manhood, and nature rejoices to behold none but as she brought them forth, nor does a harsh law make slave-mothers afraid to bear the burden of sons.

Thou too, had thy birth been later, wert now a man, and with darkened cheeks and limbs full-grown and strong hadst gladly sent not one gift only to Phoebus’ fane; now let this single tress make voyage to thy country’s shores. This did the Paphian^[2] steep in much balm, this did the fresh Graces comb with threefold hand; to this will yield the ravished purple tress of Nisus,^[3] and that which wrathful Achilles kept for Spercheus. When first it was decreed to spoil that snow-white brow and by force to rob those gleaming shoulders, winged Cupids with their Paphian mother flew to thee, and prepared thy locks and put a silken robe about thee. Then with joined arrows they cut off the tress, and laid it on gold and jewels, and Venus their mother seized it as it fell, and anointed it once and twice with her mystic essences. Then one of the troop of boys, who by chance had brought in his upturned hands a mirror finely set in jewelled gold, cried: “This too let us give, no gift could be more pleasing to his country’s shrine, and more powerful even than gold. Do thou but gaze