Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/381

Yea and a woman. Twyce her face to westward she did move,
And twyce to Eastward. Thryce shee layd her rod uppon his head.
And therwithall three charmes shee cast. Away king Picus fled.
And woondring that he fled more swift than earst he had beene woont,
He saw the fethers on his skin, and at the sodein brunt
Became a bird that haunts the wooddes. Wherat he taking spyght,
With angrye bill did job uppon hard Okes with all his myght,
And in his moode made hollowe holes uppon theyr boughes. The hew
Of Crimzen which was in his cloke, uppon his fethers grew.
The gold that was a clasp and did his cloke toogither hold,
Is fethers, and about his necke goes circlewyse like gold.
His servants luring in that whyle oft over all the ground
In vayne, and fynding no where of theyr kyng no inkling, found
Dame Circe. (For by that tyme shee had made the ayer sheere,
And suffred both the sonne and wyndes the mistye steames to cleere)
And charging her with matter trew, demaunded for theyr kyng,
And offring force, began theyr darts and Javelings for to fling.
Shee sprincling noysom venim streyght and jewce of poysoning myght,
Did call togither Eribus and Chaos, and the nyght,
And all the feendes of darknesse, and with howling out along
Made prayers unto Hecate. Scarce ended was her song,
But that (a woondrous thing to tell) the woodes lept from theyr place.
The ground did grone: the trees neere hand lookt pale in all the chace:
The grasse besprent with droppes of blood lookt red: the stones did seem
To roare and bellow horce: and doggs to howle and raze extreeme:
And all the ground to crawle with snakes blacke scaalde: and gastly spryghts
Fly whisking up and downe. The folke were flayghted at theis syghts.
And as they woondring stood amaazd, shee strokte her witching wand
Uppon theyr faces. At the touche wherof, there out of hand
Came woondrous shapes of savage beastes uppon them all. Not one
Reteyned still his native shape. The setting sonne was gone
Beyond the utmost coast of Spaine, and Singer longd in vayne
To see her husband. Bothe her folke and people ran agayne
Through all the woodes. And ever as they went, they sent theyr eyes
Before them for to fynd him out, but no man him espyes.
Then Singer thought it not ynough to weepe and teare her heare,
And beat herself (all which shee did). Shee gate abrode, and there