Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/262

The Goddess came, and kneeling on the Brink,
Stoop'd at the fresh Repast, prepar'd to drink.
Then thus, being hinder'd by the Rabble Race,
In Accents mild expostulates the Case.
Water I only ask, and sure 'tis hard
From Nature's common Rights to be debar'd:
This, as the genial Sun, and vital Air,
Should flow alike to ev'ry Creature's Share.
Yet still I ask, and as a Favour crave,
That, which a publick Bounty, Nature gave.
Nor do I seek my weary Limbs to drench;
Only, with one cool Draught, my Thirst I'd quench.
Now from my Throat the usual Moisture dries,
And ev'n my Voice in broken Accents dies:
One Draught as dear as Life I should esteem,
And Water, now I thirst, would Nectar seem.
Oh! let my little Babes your Pity move,
And melt your Hearts to charitable Love;
They (as by chance they did) extend to you
Their little Hands, and my Request pursue.
⁠Whom would these soft Perswasions not subdue,
Tho' the most rustick, and unmanner'd Crew?
Yet they the Goddess's Request refuse,
And with rude Words reproachfully abuse:
Nay more, with spiteful Feet the Villains trod
O'er the soft Bottom of the marshy Flood,
And blacken'd all the Lake with Clouds of rising Mud.
⁠Her Thirst by Indignation was suppress'd;
Bent on Revenge, the Goddess stood confess'd.
Her suppliant Hands uplifting to the Skies,
For a Redress, to Heav'n she now applies.
And, may you live, she passionately cry'd,
Doom'd in that Pool for ever to abide.
⁠The Goddess has her Wish; for now they chuse
To plunge and dive among the watry Ooze;

Some-