Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/400

And on his forehead suffereth him betweene his homes to lay
The eares of come that he himself hath wrought for in the clay,
And stayneth with his blood the knyfe that he himself perchaunce
Hathe in the water sheere ere then behild by soodein glaunce.
Immediatly they haling out his hartstrings still alive,
And poring on them, seeke therein Goddes secrets to retryve.
Whence commes so greedy appetyte in men, of wicked meate?
And dare yee, O yee mortall men, adventure thus to eate?
Nay doo not (I beseeche yee) so. But give good eare and heede
To that that I shall warne you of, and trust it as your creede,
That whensoever you doo eate your Oxen, you devowre
Your husbandmen. And forasmuch as God this instant howre
Dooth move my toong to speake, I will obey his heavenly powre.
My God Apollos temple I will set you open, and
Disclose the woondrous heavens themselves, and make you understand
The Oracles and secrets of the Godly majestye.
Greate things, and such as wit of man could never yit espye,
And such as have beene hidden long, I purpose to descrye.
I mynd to leave the earth, and up among the starres to stye.
I mynd to leave this grosser place, and in the clowdes to flye,
And on stowt Atlas shoulders strong to rest my self on hye,
And looking downe from heaven on men that wander heere and there
In dreadfull feare of death as though they voyd of reason were,
To give them exhortation thus: and playnely to unwynd
The whole discourse of destinie as nature hath assignd.
O men amaazd with dread of death, why feare yee Limbo Styx,
And other names of vanitie, which are but Poets tricks?
And perrills of another world, all false surmysed geere?
For whether fyre or length of tyme consume the bodyes heere,
Yee well may thinke that further harmes they cannot suffer more.
For soules are free from death. Howbee't, they leaving evermore
Theyr former dwellings, are receyvd and live ageine in new.
For I myself (ryght well in mynd I beare it to be trew)
Was in the tyme of Trojan warre Euphorbus, Panthewes sonne,
Quyght through whoose hart the deathfull speare of Menelay did ronne.
I late ago in Junos Church at Argos did behold