Page:Virgil's Pastorals, Georgics and Aeneis - Dryden (1709) - volume 1.pdf/381

Then will I lead thee to his secret Seat;$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$580
When weary with his Toil, and scorch'd with Heat,
The wayward Sire frequents his cool Retreat.
His Eyes with heavy Slumber overcast;
With Force invade his Limbs, and bind him fast:
Thus surely bound, yet be not over bold,585
The slipp'ry God will try to loose his hold:
And various Forms assume, to cheat thy sight;
And with vain Images of Beasts affright.
With foamy Tusks he seems a bristly Boar,
Or imitates the Lion's angry Roar;590
Breaks out in crackling Flames to shun thy Snares,
Or Hiss a Dragon, or a Tyger stares:
Or with a Wile, thy Caution to betray,
In fleeting Streams attempts to slide away.
But thou, the more he varies Forms, beware595
To strain his Fetters with a stricter Care:
Till tiring all his Arts, he turns agen
To his true Shape, in which he first was seen.
This said, with Nectar she her Son anoints;
Infusing Vigour through his mortal Joints:600
Down from his Head the liquid Odours ran;
He breath'd of Heav'n, and look'd above a Man.
Within a Mountain's hollow Womb, there lyes
A large Recess, conceal'd from Human Eyes;604
Where heaps of Billows, driv'n by Wind and Tide,$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$
In Form of War, their wat'ry Ranks divide;
And there, like Centries set, without the Mouth abide: