Picus

Man into Woodpecker

 

More Circe, more trouble. This time around she falls in love with Picus, the king of Ausónia. When he rejects her, she doesn’t take it well.

 

“Thrice with her wand she struck the youth, and thrice

Her charm-fraught song repeated. Swift he fled,

And wondering that more swift he ran than wont,

Plumes on his limbs beheld. Constrain'd to add

A new-form'd 'habitant to Latium's groves,

Angry he wounds the spreading boughs, and digs

The stubborn oak-tree with his rigid beak.

A purple tinge his feathers take, the hue

His garment shew'd; the gold, a buckle once,

Which clasp'd his robe, to feathers too is chang'd;

The shining gold circles his neck around:

Nor aught remains of Picus save the name.”