Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/104

Suppose I shou'd attempt, th' Attempt were vain,
No Thoughts like mine, his sinless Soul profane;
Observant of the Right: and O that he
Cou'd cure my Madness, or be mad like me!
Thus she: But Cinyras, who daily sees
A Crowd of noble Suitors at his Knees,
Among so many, knew not whom to chuse,
Irresolute to grant, or to refuse.
But having told their Names, enquir'd of her
Who pleas'd her best, and whom she would prefer.
The blushing Maid stood silent with Surprize,
And on her Father fix'd her ardent Eyes,
And looking sigh'd, and as she sigh'd, began
Round Tears to shed, that scalded as they ran.
The tender Sire, who saw her blush, and cry,
Ascrib'd it all to Maiden Modesty,
And dry'd the falling Drops, and yet more kind,
He stroak'd her Cheeks, and holy Kisses join'd.
She felt a secret Venom fire her Blood,
And found more Pleasure, than a Daughter shou'd;
And ask'd again what Lover of the Crew
She lik'd the best, she answer'd, One like you.
Mistaking what she meant, her pious Will
He prais'd, and bid her so continue still:
The Word of Pious heard, she blush'd with Shame
Of secret Guilt, and cou'd not bear the Name.
'Twas now the Mid of Night, when Slumbers close
Our Eyes, and sooth our Cares with soft Repose;
But no Repose cou'd wretched Myrrha find,
Her Body rouling, as she roul'd her Mind:
Mad with Desire, she ruminates her Sin,
And wishes all her Wishes o'er again:
Now she despairs, and now resolves to try;
Wou'd not, and wou'd again, she knows not why;
Stops, and returns, makes and retracts the Vow;
Fain wou'd begin, but understands not how.

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