Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/295

That for old Æson with the Laws of Fate
They would dispense, and lengthen his short Date;
Thus with repeated Pray'rs she long assails
Th' Infernal Tyrant, and at last prevails;
Then calls to have decrepit Æson brought,
And stupifies him with a sleeping Draught;
On Earth his Body, like a Corpse, extends,
Then charges Jason, and his waiting Friends
To quit the Place, that no unhallow'd Eye
Into her Art's forbidden Secrets pry.
This done, th' Inchantress, with her Locks unbound,
About her Altars trips a frantick Round;
Piece-meal the consecrated Wood she splits,
And dips the Splinters in the bloody Pits,
Then hurls 'em on the Piles; the sleeping Sire
She lustrates thrice, with Sulphur, Water, Fire.
In a large Cauldron now the Med'cine boils,
Compounded of her late collected Spoils,
Blending into the Mesh the various Pow'rs
Of Wonder-working Juices, Roots, and Flow'rs;
With Gems i' th' Eastern Ocean's Cell refin'd,
And such as ebbing Tides had left behind;
To them the Midnight's pearly Dew she flings,
A Scretch-Owl's Carcass, and ill-boding Wings;
Nor could the Wizard Wolf's warm Entrails scape,
(That Wolf who counterfeits a Human Shape.)
Then, from the Bottom of her conj'ring Bag,
Snakes Skins, and Liver of a long-liv'd Stag;
Last a Crow's Head to such an Age arriv'd,
That he had now nine Centuries surviv'd;
These, and with these a thousand more that grew
In sundry Soils, into her Pot she threw;
Then with a wither'd Olive Bough she rakes
The bubling Broth; the Bough fresh Verdure takes;
Green Leaves at first the perish'd Plant surround,
Which the next Minute with ripe Fruit were crown'd.

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