Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/89

They ponder'd the mysterious Words again,
For some new Sense; and long they fought in vain:
At length Deucalion clear'd his cloudy Brow,
And said, the dark Ænigma will allow
A Meaning, which if well I understand,
From Sacrilege will free the God's Command:
This Earth our mighty Mother is, the Stones
In her capacious Body, are her Bones:
These we must cast behind. With hope, and fear
The Woman did the new Solution hear:
The Man diffides in his own Augury,
And doubts the Gods; yet both resolve to try.
Descending from the Mount, they first unbind
Their Vests, and veil'd, they cast the Stones behind;
The Stones (a Miracle to Mortal View,
But long Tradition makes it pass for true)
Did first the Rigour of their Kind expel,
And suppled into Softness, as they fell;
Then swell'd, and swelling, by degrees grew warm;
And took the Rudiments of Humane Form.
Imperfect Shapes: in Marble such are seen,
When the rude Chizzel does the Man begin;
While yet the roughness of the Stone remains,
Without the rising Muscles, and the Veins.
The sappy Parts, and next resembling juice,
Were turn'd to Moisture, for the Bodies use:
Supplying Humours, Blood, and Nourishment;
The Rest, too solid to receive the Bent,
Converts to Bones; and what was once a Vein,
Its former Name and Nature did retain.
By help of Pow'r Divine, in little Space, ⁠$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
What the Man threw, assum'd a Manly Face;
And what the Wife, renew'd the Female Race.
Hence we derive our Nature; born to bear
Laborious Life; and harden'd into Care.

The