The sea-gods granted her entreaty. Juno,
mounting her agile chariot, reached the sky
once more, drawn by her bright peacocks, adorned
so recently with the slain Argus’ eyes.
And when those peacocks changed array, then, too,
the raven, that loquacious bird, changed hue—
most suddenly—from white to black. His plumage
was once as silvery-white as any dove’s;
indeed his feathers’ color could have matched
the color of the geese whose loud alert
would later serve to save the Capitol;
it even matched the river-loving swans’.
The raven, Phoebus’ sacred bird, was changed
because his tongue was far too talkative:
once white, that bird is now white’s opposite.