Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/382

Raundgd over all the broade wyld feelds like one besyds her witts.
Six nyghts and full as many dayes (as fortune led by fitts)
She strayd mee over hilles and dales, and never tasted rest,
Nor meate, nor drink of all the whyle. The seventh day, sore opprest
And tyred bothe with travell and with sorrowe, downe shee sate
Uppon cold Tybers bank, and there with teares in moorning rate
Shee warbling on her greef in tune not shirle nor over hye,
Did make her moane, as dooth the swan: whoo ready for to dye
Dooth sing his buriall song before. Her maree molt at last
With moorning, and shee pynde away: and finally shee past
To lither ayre. But yit her fame remayned in the place.
For why the auncient husbandmen according to the cace,
Did name it Singer of the nymph that dyed in the same.
Of such as these are, many things that yeere by fortune came
Bothe to my heering and my sight. Wee wexing resty then
And sluggs by discontinuance, were commaunded yit agen
To go aboord and hoyse up sayles. And Circe told us all
That long and dowtfull passage and rowgh seas should us befall.
I promis thee those woordes of hers mee throughly made afrayd:
And therfore hither I mee gate, and heere I have mee stayd.
This was the end of Macars tale. And ere long tyme was gone,
Aenaeas Nurce was buryed in a tumb of marble stone,
And this short verse was set theron: In this same verry place
My Nurcechyld whom the world dooth know to bee a chyld of grace
Delivering mee, Caieta, quicke from burning by the Grayes,
Hathe burnt mee dead with such a fyre as justly winnes him prayse.
Theyr Cables from the grassye strond were loosde, and by and by
From Circes slaunderous house and from her treasons farre they fly.
And making to the thickgrowen groves where through the yellow dust
The shady Tyber into sea his gusshing streame dooth thrust,
Aenaeas got the Realme of king Latinus, Fawnus sonne,
And eeke his daughter, whom in feyght by force of armes he wonne.
He enterprysed warre ageinst a Nation feerce and strong.
And Turne was wrothe for holding of his wyfe away by wrong.
Ageinst the Shyre of Latium met all Tyrrhene, and long
With busye care hawlt victorie by force of armes was sought.
Eche partie to augment theyr force by forreine succour wrought.