Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/297

How bent they are! how desp'rate to destroy
All that is left me of unhappy Troy!
Am I alone by Fate ordain'd to know
Uninterrupted Care, and endless Woe?
Now from Tydides' Spear I feel the Wound:
Now Ilium's Tow'rs the hostile Flames surround:
Troy laid in Dust, my exil'd Son I mourn,
Thro' angry Seas, and raging Billows born;
O'er the wide Deep his wandring Course he bends;
Now to the sullen Shades of Styx descends,
With Turnus driv'n at last fierce Wars to wage,
Or rather with unpitying Juno's Rage.
But why record I now my antient Woes?
Sense of past Ills in present Fears I lose;
On me their Points the impious Daggers throw;
Forbid it, Gods, repel the direful Blow:
If by curs'd Weapons Numa's Priest expires,
No longer shall ye burn, ye vestal Fires.
While such Complainings Cypria's Grief disclose;
In each celestial Breast Compassion rose:
Not Gods can altar Fate's resistless Will;
Yet they foretold by Signs th' approaching Ill.
Dreadful were heard, among the Clouds, Alarms
Of ecchoing Trumpets, and of clashing Arms;
The Sun's pale Image gave so faint a Light,
That the sad Earth was almost veil'd in Night;
The Æther's Face with fiery Meteors glow'd:
With Storms of Hail were mingled Drops of Blood;
A dusky Hue the Morning Star o'erspread,
And the Moon's Orb was stain'd with Spots of Red;
In every Place portentous Shrieks were heard,
The fatal Warnings of th' infernal Bird;
In ev'ry Place the Marble melts to Tears;
While in the Groves, rever'd thro' length of Years,
Boding, and awful Sounds the Ear invade;
And solemn Music warbles thro' the Shade;

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