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Source: Ovid //Metamorphoses//, Trans. Sir Samuel Garth et al, Internet Classics Archive, http://classics.mit.edu/Ovid/metam.4.fourth.html

Yet tho' this harsh, inglorious fate they found,

Each in the deathless grandson liv'd renown'd.

Thro' conquer'd India Bacchus nobly rode,

And Greece with temples hail'd the conqu'ring God.

In Argos only proud Acrisius reign'd,

Who all the consecrated rites profan'd.

Audacious wretch! thus Bacchus to deny,

And the great Thunderer's great son defie!

Nor him alone: thy daughter vainly strove,

Brave Perseus of celestial stem to prove,

And her self pregnant by a golden Jove.

Yet this was true, and truth in time prevails;

Acrisius now his unbelief bewails.

His former thought, an impious thought he found,

And both the heroe, and the God were own'd.

He saw, already one in Heav'n was plac'd,

And one with more than mortal triumphs grac'd,

The victor Perseus with the Gorgon-head,

O'er Libyan sands his airy journey sped.

The gory drops distill'd, as swift he flew,

And from each drop envenom'd serpents grew,

The mischiefs brooded on the barren plains,

And still th' unhappy fruitfulness remains.

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