Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/277

The golden Age, to Silver was debas'd:
To Copper that; our Mettal came at last.
The Face of Places, and their Forms, decay;
And that is solid Earth, that once was Sea:
Seas in their Turn retreating from the Shore,
Make solid Land, what Ocean was before;
And far from Strands are Shells of Fishes found,
And rusty Anchors fix'd on Mountain-Ground:
And what were Fields before, now wash'd and worn
By falling Floods from high, to Valleys turn.
And crumbling Hill descend to level Lands;
And Lakes, and trembling Bogs, are barren Sands:
And the parched Desart floats in Streams unknown;
Wondring to drink of Waters not her own.
Here Nature living Fountains opes; and there
Seals up the Wombs, where living Fountains were;
Or Earthquakes flop their ancient Course, and bring
Diverted Streams to feed a distant Spring.
So Licus, swallow'd up, is seen no more,
But far from thence knocks out another Door.
Thus Erasinus dives; and blind in Earth
Runs on, and gropes his Way to second Birth,
Starts up in Argos' Meads, and shakes his Locks
Around the Fields, and fattens all the Flocks.
So Mysus by another way is led,
And, grown a River, now disdains his Head:
Forgets his humble Birth, his Name forsakes,
And the proud Title of Caicus takes.
Large Amenane, impure with yellow Sands,
Runs rapid often, and as often stands,
And here he threats the drunken Fields to drown;
And there his Dugs deny to give their Liquor down.
Anigros once did wholesome Draughts afford,
But now his deadly Waters are abhorr'd:
Since, hurt by Hercules, as Fame resounds,
Centaurs in his Current wash'd their Wounds.

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