Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/268

Fondly he wishes for the Father's Place,
To feel, and to return the warm Embrace;
Since not the nearest Ties of filial Blood
Would damp his Flame, and force him to be good.
⁠At length, for both their Sakes the King agrees
And Philomela, on her bended Knees,
Thanks him for what her Fancy calls Success,
When cruel Fate intends her nothing less.
⁠Now Phœbus, hastning to ambrosial Rest,
His fiery Steeds drove sloping down the West:
The sculptur'd Gold with sparkling Wines was fill'd
And, with rich Meats, each chearful Table smil'd.
Plenty, and Mirth the royal Banquet close,
Then all retire to Sleep, and sweet Repose.
But the lewd Monarch, tho' withdrawn apart,
Still feels Love's Poison rankling in his Heart:
Her Face Divine is stamp'd within his Breast,
Fancy imagines, and improves the rest:
And thus, kept waking by intense Desire,
He nourishes his own prevailing Fire.
⁠Next Day the good old King for Tereus sends,
And to his Charge the Virgin recommends;
His Hand with Tears th' indulgent Father press'd,
Then spoke, and thus with Tenderness address'd.
⁠Since the kind Instances of pious Love,
Do all Pretence of Obstacle remove;
Since Procne's, and her own, with your Request,
O'er-rule the Fears of a Paternal Breast;
With you, dear Son, my Daughter I entrust,
And by the Gods adjure you to be just;
By Truth, and ev'ry consanguineal Tye,
To watch, and guard her with a Father's Eye.
And, since the least Delay will tedious prove,
In keeping from my Sight the Child I love,
With Speed return her, kindly to asswage
The tedious troubles of my lingring Age.

And