The goddess spoke and wrapped her snowy arms
This way and that about him as he lingered,
Cherishing him in her swansdown embrace.
And instantly he felt the flame of love
Invading him as ever; into his marrow
Ran the fire he knew, and through his bones,
As when sometimes, ripped by a thunder peal,
A fiery flash goes jagged through the clouds.
His wife, contented with her blandishment,
Sure of her loveliness, perceived it all.
Lord Vulcan, captive to immortal passion,
Answered her (8.516-527)
"No, me! Me! Here I am! I did it! Take
Your swords to me, Rutulians. All the trickery
Was mine. He had not dared to do anything,
He could not. Heaven's my witness, and the stars
That look down on us, all he did was care
Too much for a luckless friend." (9.605-610)
Cunerus, never could I pass you by, […]
Nor you with your scant following, Cupavo,
Plumage of swan upon your crest: a sign
Reproaching Amor and his goddess mother
With your own father's change of form.
Cycnus, they say, when mourning Phaëthon […]
Among the new leaves, quieting with song
His woe for love lost, dressed himself
In softest plumage as in snowy age
And left the earth and chanting sought the stars. (10.255, 257-261, 263-266)