Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books Translated by the most Eminent Hands. Adorn'd with Sculptures |
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 | Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books |  |
The Death of Nessus the Centaur.
This Virgin too, thy Love, O Nessus, sound,
To her alone you owe the fatal Wound.
As the strong Son of Jove his Bride conveys,
Where his Paternal Lands their Bulwarks raise;
Where from her slopy Urn, Evenus pours
Her rapid Current, swell'd by wintry Show'rs,
He came. The frequent Eddies whirl'd the Tide,
And the deep rolling Waves all Pass deny'd.
As, for himself, he stood unmov'd by Fears,
For now his Bridal Charge employ'd his Cares,
The strong-limb'd Nessus thus officious cry'd,
(For he the Shallows of the Stream had try'd)
Swim thou, Alcides, all thy Strength prepare,
On yonder Bank I'll lodge thy Nuptial Care.
To her alone you owe the fatal Wound.
As the strong Son of Jove his Bride conveys,
Where his Paternal Lands their Bulwarks raise;
Where from her slopy Urn, Evenus pours
Her rapid Current, swell'd by wintry Show'rs,
He came. The frequent Eddies whirl'd the Tide,
And the deep rolling Waves all Pass deny'd.
As, for himself, he stood unmov'd by Fears,
For now his Bridal Charge employ'd his Cares,
The strong-limb'd Nessus thus officious cry'd,
(For he the Shallows of the Stream had try'd)
Swim thou, Alcides, all thy Strength prepare,
On yonder Bank I'll lodge thy Nuptial Care.
Th'Aonian Chief to Nessus trusts his Wife,
All pale and trembling for her Heroe's Life:
Cloath'd as he stood in the fierce Lion's Hide,
The laden Quiver o'er his Shoulder ty'd,
(For cross the Stream his Bow and Club were cast)
Swift he plung'd in; These Billows shall be past,
He said, nor sought where smoother Waters glide,
But stem'd the rapid Dangers of the Tide.
The Bank he reach'd; again the Bow he bears;
When, hark! his Bride's known Voice alarms his Ears.
Nessus, to thee I call (aloud he cries)
Vain is thy Trust in Flight, be timely wise:
Thou Monster double-shap'd, my Right set free;
If thou no Rev'rence owe my Fame and me,
Yet Kindred shou'd thy lawless Lust deny;
Think not, perfidious Wretch, from me to fly,
Tho' wing'd with Horse's Speed; Wounds shall pursue;
Swift as his Words the fatal Arrow flew:
The Centaur's Back admits the feather'd Wood,
And thro' his Breast the barbed Weapon stood;
Which, when in Anguish, thro' the Flesh he tore,
From both the Wounds gush'd forth the spumy Gore
Mix'd with Lernæan Venom; this he took,
Nor dire Revenge his dying Breast forsook.
His Garment, in the reeking Purple dy'd,
To rouse Love's Passion, he presents the Bride.
All pale and trembling for her Heroe's Life:
Cloath'd as he stood in the fierce Lion's Hide,
The laden Quiver o'er his Shoulder ty'd,
(For cross the Stream his Bow and Club were cast)
Swift he plung'd in; These Billows shall be past,
He said, nor sought where smoother Waters glide,
But stem'd the rapid Dangers of the Tide.
302
When, hark! his Bride's known Voice alarms his Ears.
Nessus, to thee I call (aloud he cries)
Vain is thy Trust in Flight, be timely wise:
Thou Monster double-shap'd, my Right set free;
If thou no Rev'rence owe my Fame and me,
Yet Kindred shou'd thy lawless Lust deny;
Think not, perfidious Wretch, from me to fly,
Tho' wing'd with Horse's Speed; Wounds shall pursue;
Swift as his Words the fatal Arrow flew:
The Centaur's Back admits the feather'd Wood,
And thro' his Breast the barbed Weapon stood;
Which, when in Anguish, thro' the Flesh he tore,
From both the Wounds gush'd forth the spumy Gore
Mix'd with Lernæan Venom; this he took,
Nor dire Revenge his dying Breast forsook.
His Garment, in the reeking Purple dy'd,
To rouse Love's Passion, he presents the Bride.
| Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books | |