833When Atlas' grandson had exacted this punishment for her words and her profane mind, he leaves the land named after Pallas and enters the ether on beating wings. 836His father calls him aside. 836Not confessing love as the reason, 'Faithful minister of my commands, my son,' he says, 'put off delay and glide down swiftly in your usual course, and make for the land that looks up at your mother from the left side (the natives call it by the name of Sidon), and the royal herd which you see grazing far off on the mountain grass, drive it to the shore.' 843He spoke, and at once the bullocks, driven from the mountain, make for the shore as ordered, where the great king's daughter, accompanied by Tyrian maidens, used to play.
846Majesty and love do not go well together, nor do they linger in one dwelling: laying aside the dignity of the sceptre, that father and ruler of the gods, whose right hand is armed with three-forked fire, who shakes the world with a nod, puts on the appearance of a bull, and, mingling with the bullocks, he lows and wanders handsome over the tender grass. 852For his colour is that of snow which neither the tracks of a hard foot have trodden nor the rainy south wind has melted. 854His neck stands out with muscles, dewlaps hang from his shoulders, his horns are small, it is true, but such as you could argue were made by hand, and more translucent than a pure jewel.
857There are no threats on his brow, and no fearsome eye; 858his face holds peace. 858Agenor's daughter marvels that he is so handsome, that he threatens no fights. 860But though he is gentle, she fears to touch him at first: soon she approaches and holds out flowers to his white mouth. 862The lover rejoices, and until the hoped-for pleasure comes, he gives kisses to her hands; 863scarcely now, scarcely does he put off the rest. 864And now he frolics and leaps about in the green grass, now lays his snowy side down on the yellow sand; 866and gradually, her fear removed, now he offers his breast to be patted by the maiden's hand, now his horns to be entwined with fresh garlands.
868The royal maiden even dared, not knowing whom she was pressing, to sit on the bull's back, when the god, little by little, from the land and the dry shore, sets the false prints of his feet in the edge of the waves: from there he goes further and carries his prize through the waters of mid-sea. 873She is terrified, and, carried off, looks back at the shore left behind, and holds a horn with her right hand; the other is placed on his back; 875her fluttering garments billow in the wind.