Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/273

But suffer inmate Souls secure to dwell,
Least from their Seats your Parents you expel;
With rabid Hunger feed upon your Kind,
Or from a Beast dislodge a Brother's Mind.
And since, like Typhis parting from the Shore,
In ample Seas I sail, and Depths untry'd before,
This let me further add, That Nature knows
No steadfast Station, but, or Ebbs, or Flows;
Ever in Motion; she destroys her old,
And casts new Figures in another Mold.
Ev'n Times are in perpetual Flux, and run,
Like Rivers from their Fountain, rowling on,
For Time, no more than Streams, is at a Stay;
The flying Hour is ever on her Way:
And as the Fountain still supplies her Store,
The Wave behind impels the Wave before;
Thus in successive Course the Minutes run,
And urge their Predecessor Minutes on,
Still moving, ever new: For former Things
Are set aside, like abdicated Kings:
And every moment alters what is done,
And innovates some Act, till then unknown:
Darkness we see emerges into Light,
And shining Suns descend to sable Night;
Ev'n Heav'n it self receives another Dye,
When weary'd Animals in Slumbers lie
Of Midnight Ease: Another, when the Gray
Of Morn preludes the Splendor of the Day.
The Disk of Phœbus, when he climbs on high,
Appears at first but as a bloodshot Eye;
And when his Chariot downward drives to Bed,
His Ball is with the same Suffusion red;
But mounted high in his Meridian Race
All bright he shines, and, with a better Face:
For there, pure Particles of Æther flow,
Far from th' Infection of the World below.

Nor