Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/293

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Book 7.
Ovid's Metamorphoses.
209

Transform'd the Prospect of the briny Deep,
Made sleeping Billows rave, and raving Billows sleep;
Made Clouds, or Sunshine; Tempests rise, or fall;
And stubborn lawless Winds obey my Call:
With mutter'd Words disarm'd the Viper's Jaw,
Up by the Roots vast Oaks, and Rocks cou'd draw;
Make Forests dance, and trembling Mountains come,
Like Malefactors, to receive their Doom;
Earth groan, and frighted Ghosts forsake their Tomb.
Thee, Cynthia, my resistless Rhymes drew down,
When tinkling Cymbals strove my Voice to drown;
Nor stronger Titan could their Force sustain,
In full Career compell'd to stop his Wain:
Nor could Aurora's Virgin Blush avail,
With pois'nous Herbs I turn'd her Roses pale;
The Fury of the fiery Bulls I broke,
Their stubborn Necks submitting to my Yoke;
And when the Sons of Earth with Fury burn'd,
Their hostile Rage upon themselves I turn'd;
The Brothers made with mutual Wounds to bleed,
And by their fatal Strife my Lover freed;
And, while the Dragon slept, to distant Greece,
Thro' cheated Guards, convey'd the Golden Fleece.
But now to bolder Action I proceed,
Of such prevailing Juices now have need,
That wither'd Years back to their Bloom can bring,
And in dead Winter raise a second Spring.
And you'll perform't——
You will; for lo! the Stars, with sparkling Fires,
Presage as bright Success to my Desires:
And now another happy Omen see!
A Chariot drawn by Dragons waits for me.
With these last Words she leaps into the Wain,
Stroaks the Snakes Necks, and shakes the Golden Rein;

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