Skill'd in the laws of fecret fate above,
And the dark counfels of almighty Jove,

Tis thine the feeds of future war to know,
The change of Sceptres, and impending woe;
When direful meteors fpread thro' glowing air
Long trails of light, and shake their blazing hair.
Thy rage the Phrygian felt, who durft afpire
T'excel the music of thy heav'nly lyre;
Thy shafts aveng'd lewd Tityus' guilty flame,
Th'immortal victim of thy mother's fame;
Thy hand flew Python, and the dame who loft
Her num'rous offspring for a fatal boast.
In Phlegyas' doom thy juft revenge appears,
Condemn'd to furies and eternal fears;

He views his food, but dreads, with lifted eye,
The mouldring rock that trembles from on high.

840

845

850

Propitious hear our pray'r, O Pow'r divine! 855 And on thy hofpitable Argos fhine,

Whether the ftyle of Titan please thee more,
Whofe purple rays th' Achæmenes adore;

840

Parcarum praenĉffe minas, fatumque quod ultra eft,
Et fummo placitura Jovi. quis letifer annus,
Bella quibus populis, mutent quae fceptra cometae.
Tu Phryga fubmittis citharae. tu matris honori 845
Terrigenam Tityon Stygiis extendis arenis.

Te viridis Python, Thebanaque mater ovantem
Horruit in pharetris. ultrix tibi torva Megaera 850
Jejunum Phlegyam fubter cava faxa jacentem
Aeterno premit accubitu, dapibufque profanis
Inftimulat: fed mifta famem faftidia vincunt.
Adfis o, memor hofpitii, Junoniaque arva
Dexter ames; feu te rofeum Titana vocari
Gentis Achaemeniae rita, feu praeftat Ofirin

855

860

Or great Ofiris, who first taught the swain
In Pharian fields to fow the golden grain;
Or Mitra, to whose beams the Persian bows,
And pays, in hollow rocks, his awful vows;
Mitra, whofe head the blaze of light adorns,
Who grafps the struggling heifer's lunar horns.

Frugiferum, feu Perfei fub rupibus antri
Indignata fequi torquentem cornua Mitram.

THE

FABLE

O F

DRYOPE.

From the NINTH BOOK of

OVID'S METAMORPHOSES.

THE

FAB LE

O F

DRYOPE.

S

H E faid, and for her loft Galanthis fighs,
When the fair Confort of her fon replies.
Since you a fervant's ravish'd form bemoan,
And kindly figh for forrows not your own;
Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate
A nearer woe, a fifter's ftranger fate.
No Nymph of all Oechalia could compare
For beateous form with Dryope the fair,
Her tender mother's only hope and pride,
(Myfelf the offspring of a fecond bride.)

DIXIT

5

10

IXIT: et, admonitu veteris commota ministrae, Ingemuit; quam fic nurus eft adfata dolentem : Te tamen, o genitrix, alienae fanguine veftro Rapta movet facies. quid fi tibi mira fororis Fata meae referam ? quanquam lacrymaeque dolorque Impediunt, prohibentque loqui. fuit unica matri (Me pater ex alia genuit) notiflima formâ

NOTES.

10

DRYOPE.] Upon the occafion of the death of Hercules, his Mother Alcmena recounts her misfortunes to Iole, who answers with a relation of thofe of her own family, in particular the Transformation of her fifter Dryope, which is the subject of the enfuing Fable.

3