Heyo, I have taken my computer to a professional to get the system scanned. At the moment is won't let me on the internet, so I apologize for the lateness.

Just as the Gallic dog sees a hare in an empty ploughed field, the dog makes for the prey, the hare to safety; he seems to now clutch er, he hopes, and extending his jaws grazes the tracks (hare's feet), the other, uncertain of being caught, snatches herself from the bite. So the God and the virgin: he is of rash hope, and she of fear. He who followed, however, helped by the wings of love, is swifter and denies rest, flying quickly he threatens her back and breathes on the hair of her neck. She flees quickly, having been spent in strength, turns pale, defeated in effort and seeing the waves of Paneidas prays, "Bring might, father! If you have the divine will over the river, which very much pleases you, ruin my beauty!" With the prayer barely finished, numbness seized her limbs, bark surrounds the free feeble breast, in the hair foliage, from the arms come forth branches, just now the swift foot is then stuck by slow roots, the face holds the top: only beauty remained in her.