The hollow Banks in solemn Consort mourn,
And the sad Strain in ecchoing Groans return.
Now with the Current to the Sea they glide,
Born by the Billows of the briny Tide;
And driv'n where Waves round rocky Lesbos roar,
They strand, and lodge upon Methymna's Shore.
But here, when landed on the foreign Soil,
A venom'd Snake, the Product of the Isle,
Attempts the Head, and sacred Locks embru'd
With clotted Gore, and still fresh-dropping Blood.
Phœbus, at last, his Kind Protection gives,
And from the Fact the greedy Monster drives:
Whose marble Jaws his impious Crime atone.
Still grinning ghastly, tho' transform'd to Stone.
His Ghost flies downward to the Stygian Shore,
And knows the Places it had seen before:
Among the Shadows of the pious Train
He finds Euridicè, and loves again;
With Pleasure views the beauteous Phantom's Charms
And clasps her in his unsubstantial Arms.
There Side by Side they unmolested walk,
Or pass their blissful Hours in pleasing Talk;
Aft or before the Bard securely goes,
And, without Danger, can review his Spouse.
The Thracian Women transform'd to Trees.
Bacchus, resolving to revenge the Wrong,
Of Orpheus murder'd, on the madding Throng,
Decreed that each Accomplice Dame shou'd stand
Fix'd by the Roots along the conscious Land.
Their wicked Feet, that late so nimbly ran
To wreak their Malice on the guiltless Man,
Sudden with twisted Ligatures were bound,
Like Trees, deep planted in the turfy Ground.
