Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/271

Then my pale Ghost, pure from incestuous Love,
Had wander'd spotless thro' th' Elysian Grove.
But if the Gods above have Pow'r to know,
And judge those Actions that are done below;
Unless the dreaded Thunders of the Sky,
Like me, subdu'd, and violated lye;
Still my Revenge shall take its proper Time,
And suit the Baseness of your hellish Crime.
My self, abandon'd, and devoid of Shame,
Thro' the wide World your Actions will proclaim;
Or tho' I'm prison'd in this lonely Den,
Obscur'd, and bury'd from the Sight of Men,
My mournful Voice the pitying Rocks shall move,
And my Complainings echo thro' the Grove.
Hear me, O Heav'n! and, if a God be there,
Let him regard me, and accept my Pray'r.
Struck with these Words, the Tyrant's guilty Breast
With Fear, and Anger, was, by turns, possest;
Now, with Remorse his Conscience deeply stung,
He drew the Faulchion that beside him hung,
And first her tender Arms behind her bound,
Then drag'd her by the Hair along the Ground.
The Princess willingly her Throat reclin'd,
And view'd the Steel with a contented Mind;
But soon her Tongue the girding Pinchers strain,
With Anguish, soon she feels the piercing Pain:
Oh Father! Father! she would fain have spoke,
But the sharp Torture her Intention broke;
In vain she tries, for now the Blade has cut
Her Tongue sheer off, close to the trembling Root.
The mangled Part still quiver'd on the Ground,
Murmuring with a faint imperfect Sound:
And, as a Serpent writhes his wounded Train,
Uneasy, panting, and possess'd with Pain;
The Piece, while Life remain'd, still trembled fast,
And to its Mistress pointed to the last.

Yet,