Classic Poem

 While thus to unknown pow'rs Cephisa pray'd,
Victorious Pan o'ertook the fainting maid.
Around her waste his eager arms he throws,
With love and joy his throbbing bosom glows;
When, wonderful to tell, her form receives
A verdant cov'ring of expanded leaves;
Then shooting downward trembling to the ground
A fibrous root her slender ancles bound;
Strange to herself as yet aghast she stands,
And to high Heav'n she rears her spotless hands;
These while she spreads them still in spires extend,
Till in small leaves her taper fingers end;
Her voice she tries; but utt'rance is deny'd,
The smother'd sounds in hollow murmurs dy'd;
At length, quite chang'd, the God with wonder view'd
A beauteous plant arising where she stood;
This from his touch with human sense inspir'd,
Indignant shrinking, of itself retir'd;
Yet Pan attends it with a lover's cares,
And fost'ring aid with tender hand prepares;
The new form'd plant reluctant seems to yield,
And lives the grace and glory of the field.
But still, as mindful of her former state,
The nymph's perfections on her change await,
And tho' transform'd, her virtue still remains,
No touch impure her sacred plant sustains,
From whence the name of Sensitive it gains.
This oft' the nymphs approach with secret dread,
While crimson blushes o'er their cheeks are spread;
Yet the true virgin has no cause for fear,
The test is equal if the maid's sincere.