Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/197

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Book 4.
Ovid's Metamorphoses
119

Part of her Tresses loudly hiss, and part
Spread Poyson, as their forky Tongues they dart.
Then from her middle Locks two Snakes she drew,
Whose Merit from superior Mischief grew:
Th' envenom'd Ruin, thrown with spiteful Care,
Clung to the Bosoms of the hapless Pair.
The hapless Pair soon with wild Thoughts were fir'd,
And Madness, by a thousand ways inspir'd.
'Tis true, th' unwounded Body still was found,
But 'twas the Soul, which felt the deadly Wound.
Nor did th' unsated Monster here give o'er,
But dealt of Plagues a fresh, unnumber'd Store.
Each baneful Juice too well she understood,
Foam, churn'd by Cerberus, and Hydra's Blood.
Hot Hemlock, and cold Aconite she chose,
Delighted in Variety of Woes.
Whatever can untune th' harmonious Soul,
And its mild, reas'ning Faculties controul,
Give false Ideas, raise Desires profane,
And whirl in Eddies the tumultuous Brain,
Mix'd with curs'd Art, she direfully around
Thro' all their Nerves diffus'd the sad Compound.
Then toss'd her Torch in Circles still the same,
Improv'd their Rage, and added Flame to Flame.
The grinning Fury her own Conquest spy'd,
And to her rueful Shades return'd with Pride,
And threw th' exhausted, useless Snakes aside.
Now Athamas cries out, his Reason fled,
Here, Fellow hunters, let the Toils be spread.
I saw a Lioness, in quest of Food,
With her two Young, run roaring in this Wood.
Again the fancy'd Savages were seen,
As thro' his Palace still he chac'd his Queen;
Then tore Learchus from her Breast: The Child
Stretch'd little Arms, and on it's Father smil'd:

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