So did the god, in an old woman’s guise,
plead with Pomona—getting no reply.
At that, Vertumnus once again took on
his own true form; his masquerade was done;
he showed Pomona all his splendor, young
again—as when the radiant sun has won
its war against the clouds—victorious,
it shines with its unfettered light. Vertumnus
stood ready now to take the nymph by force;
but force was hardly needed, for his beauty
entranced her—godly beauty. Now she, too,
felt the same passion: love had pierced her through.