Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/285

Or, should he thro' these Dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the Dragon's Prey.
If no Remorse for such Distress I feel,
I am a Tigress, and my Breast is Steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,
And with the tragick Scene my Eyes prophane?
My Magick's Art employ, not to asswage
The Salvages, but to enflame their Rage?
His Earth-born Foes to fiercer Fury move,
And accessary to his Murder prove?
The Gods forbid———But Pray'rs are idle Breath,
When Action only can prevent his Death.
Shall I betray my Father, and the State,
To intercept a rambling Hero's Fate;
Who may sail off next Hour, and sav'd from Harms
By my Assistance, bless another's Arms?
Whilst I, not only of my Hopes bereft,
But to unpity'd Punishment am left.
If he is false, let the Ingrateful bleed!
But no such Symptom in his Looks I read.
Nature wou'd ne'er have lavish'd so much Grace
Upon his Person, if his Soul were base.
Besides, he first shall plight his Faith, and swear
By all the Gods; what therefore can'st thou fear?
Medea haste, from Danger set him free,
Jason shall thy eternal Debtor be.
And thou, his Queen, with Sov'raign State enstall'd,
By Græcian Dames the Kind Preserver call'd.
Hence idle Dreams, by Love-sick Fancy bred!
Wilt thou, Medea, by vain Wishes led,
To Sister, Brother, Father bid adieu?
Forsake thy Country's Gods, and Country too?
My Father's harsh, my Brother but a Child,
My Sister rivals me, my Country's wild;
And for it's Gods, the greatest of 'em all
Inspires my Breast, and I obey his Call.