Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/250

These Gallies, once fair Trees, on Ida stood,
And gave their Shade to each descending God.
Nor shall consume, irrevocable Fate
Allots their being no determin'd Date.
Strait Peals of Thunder Heav'n's high Arches rend,
The Hail-stones leap, the Show'rs in Spouts descend.
The Winds with widen'd Throats the Signal give;
The Cables break, the smoaking Vessels drive.
Now, wondrous, as they beat the foaming Flood,
The Timber softens into Flesh, and Blood;
The Yards, and Oars new Arms, and Legs design;
A Trunk the Hull, the slender Keel a Spine;
The Prow a female Face; and by Degrees
The Gallies rise green Daughters of the Seas,
Sometimes on coral Beds they sit in State,
Or wanton on the Waves they fear'd of late.
The Barks, that beat the Seas are still their Care,
Themselves remembring what of late they were;
To save a Trojan Sail in Throngs they press,
But smile to see Alcinous in Distress.
Unable were those Wonders to deter
The Latians from their unsuccessful War.
Both Sides for doubtful Victory contend;
And on their Courage, and their Gods depend.
Nor bright Lavinia, nor Latinus' Crown,
Warm their great Soul to War, like fair Renown.
Venus at last beholds her Godlike Son
Triumphant, and the Field of Battle won;
Brave Turnus slain, strong Ardea but a Name,
And bury'd in fierce Deluges of Flame.
Her Tow'rs, that boasted once a Sov'reign Sway,
The Fate of fancy'd Grandeur, now betray.
A famish'd Heron from the Ashes springs,
And Beats the Ruin with disastrous Wings.
Calamities of Towns distrest she feigns,
And oft, with woful Shrieks, of War complains.

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