 | Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books |  |
The Trojan War.
Priam
, to whom the Story was unknown,
As dead, deplor'd his Metamorphos'd Son:
A Cenotaph his Name and Title kept,
And Hector round the Tomb, with all his Brothers, wept.
As dead, deplor'd his Metamorphos'd Son:
A Cenotaph his Name and Title kept,
And Hector round the Tomb, with all his Brothers, wept.
This pious Office Paris did not share,
Absent alone; and Author of the War,
Which, for the Spartan Queen, the Grecians drew
T'avenge the Rape; and Asia to subdue.
Absent alone; and Author of the War,
Which, for the Spartan Queen, the Grecians drew
T'avenge the Rape; and Asia to subdue.
A thousand Ships were mann'd, to sail the Sea:
Nor had their just Resentments found Delay,
Had not the Winds and Waves oppos'd their Way.
At Aulis, with United Pow'rs they meet,
But there, Cross-winds or Calms detain'd the Fleet.
Now, while they raise an Altar on the Shore,
And Jove with solemn Sacrifice adore;
A boding Sign the Priests and People see:
A Snake of Size immense ascends a Tree,
And, in the leafie Summit, spy'd a Nest,
Which o'er her Callow Young, a Sparrow press'd.
Eight were the Birds unfledg'd; their Mother flew,
And hover'd round her Care; but still in view:
Till the fierce Reptile first devour'd the Brood;
Then seiz'd the flutt'ring Dam, and drunk her Blood.
This dire Ostent, the fearful People view;
Calchas alone, by Phœbus taught, foreknew
What Heav'n decreed; and with a smiling Glance,
Thus gratulates to Greece her happy Chance.
O Argives, we shall Conquer: Troy is ours,
But long Delays shall first afflict our Pow'rs:
Nine Years of Labour, the nine Birds portend;
The Tenth shall in the Town's Destruction end.
Nor had their just Resentments found Delay,
Had not the Winds and Waves oppos'd their Way.
At Aulis, with United Pow'rs they meet,
But there, Cross-winds or Calms detain'd the Fleet.
Now, while they raise an Altar on the Shore,
And Jove with solemn Sacrifice adore;
408
A Snake of Size immense ascends a Tree,
And, in the leafie Summit, spy'd a Nest,
Which o'er her Callow Young, a Sparrow press'd.
Eight were the Birds unfledg'd; their Mother flew,
And hover'd round her Care; but still in view:
Till the fierce Reptile first devour'd the Brood;
Then seiz'd the flutt'ring Dam, and drunk her Blood.
This dire Ostent, the fearful People view;
Calchas alone, by Phœbus taught, foreknew
What Heav'n decreed; and with a smiling Glance,
Thus gratulates to Greece her happy Chance.
O Argives, we shall Conquer: Troy is ours,
But long Delays shall first afflict our Pow'rs:
Nine Years of Labour, the nine Birds portend;
The Tenth shall in the Town's Destruction end.
The Serpent, who his Maw obscene had fill'd,
The Branches in his curl'd Embraces held:
But, as in Spires he stood, he turn'd to Stone:
The stony Snake retain'd the Figure still his own.
The Branches in his curl'd Embraces held:
But, as in Spires he stood, he turn'd to Stone:
The stony Snake retain'd the Figure still his own.
Yet, not for this, the Wind-bound Navy weigh'd;
Slack were their Sails; and Neptune disobey'd.
Some thought him loath the Town shou'd be destroy'd,
Whose Building had his Hands Divine employ'd:
Not so the Seer; who knew, and known foreshow'd,
The Virgin Phœbe, with a Virgin's Blood
Must first be reconcil'd: The common Cause
Prevail'd; and Pity yielding to the Laws,
Fair Iphigenia the devoted Maid
Was, by the weeping Priests, in Linnen-Robes array'd;
All mourn her Fate; but no Relief appear'd:
The Royal Victim bound, the Knife already rear'd:
When that offended Pow'r, who caus'd their Woe,
Relenting ceas'd her Wrath; and stop'd the coming Blow.
A Mist before the Ministers she cast,
And, in the Virgin's room, a Hind she plac'd.
Th'Oblation slain, and Phæbe reconcil'd,
The Storm was hush'd, and dimpled Ocean smil'd:
A favourable Gale arose from Shore,
Which to the Port desir'd, the Grecian Gallies bore.
Slack were their Sails; and Neptune disobey'd.
Some thought him loath the Town shou'd be destroy'd,
Whose Building had his Hands Divine employ'd:
Not so the Seer; who knew, and known foreshow'd,
The Virgin Phœbe, with a Virgin's Blood
Must first be reconcil'd: The common Cause
Prevail'd; and Pity yielding to the Laws,
Fair Iphigenia the devoted Maid
Was, by the weeping Priests, in Linnen-Robes array'd;
All mourn her Fate; but no Relief appear'd:
The Royal Victim bound, the Knife already rear'd:
409
Relenting ceas'd her Wrath; and stop'd the coming Blow.
A Mist before the Ministers she cast,
And, in the Virgin's room, a Hind she plac'd.
Th'Oblation slain, and Phæbe reconcil'd,
The Storm was hush'd, and dimpled Ocean smil'd:
A favourable Gale arose from Shore,
Which to the Port desir'd, the Grecian Gallies bore.
| Ovid's metamorphoses in fifteen books | |