Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/302

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218
Ovid's Metamorphoses.
Book 7.

Who, with the same Assurance takes the Cup,
And to the Monarch's Health had drank it up,
But in the very Instant he apply'd
The Goblet to his Lips, old Ægeus spy'd
The Iv'ry hilted Sword that grac'd his Side.
That certain Signal of his Son he knew,
And snatcht the Bowl away; the Sword he drew,
Resolv'd, for such a Son's endanger'd Life,
To sacrifice the most perfidious Wife.
Revenge is swift, but her more active Charms
A Whirl-wind rais'd, that snatch'd her from his Arms.
While conjur'd Clouds their baffled Sense surprize.
She vanishes from their deluded Eyes,
And thro' the Hurricane triumphant flies.
The gen'rous King, altho' o'er-joy'd to find
His Son was safe, yet bearing still in mind
The Mischief by his treach'rous Queen design'd;
The Horror of the Deed, and then how near
The Danger drew, he stands congeal'd with Fear.
But soon that Fear into Devotion turns,
With grateful Incense ev'ry Altar burns;
Proud Victims! and unconscious of their Fate,
Stalk to the Temple, there to die in state.
In Athens never had a Day been found
For Mirth, like that grand Festival, renown'd.
Promiscuously the Peers, and People dine,
Promiscuously their thankful Voices join,
In Songs of Wit, sublim'd by spritely Wine.
To list'ning Spheres their joint Applause they raise,
And thus resound their matchless Theseus' Praise.
Great Theseus! Thee the Marathonian Plain
Admires, and wears with Pride the noble Stain
Of the dire Monster's Blood, by valiant Theseus slain.
That now Cromyon's Swains in Safety sow,
And reap their fertile Field, to thee they owe.

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