I.

Arachne, dar'st thou place thy Loom
Between those chast, immortal Thighs ,
Where none of human Race might come,
Or more prevailing Dietys?

II.

E'en in the Quarters of thy Foe?
Is she no better known than this?
Away, or thou may'st undergoe
Some heavy'r Metamorphosis .

III.

Or shou'd she in her Wisdom find,
To pour a Deluge from before,
Or blow a Tempest from behind,
Thou, and thy Labours were no more.