Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/101

 And that full shortely (as I gesse) that hither shall resort Another Bacchus, Semelles sonne, whome if thou not support With pompe and honour like a God, thy carcasse shall be tattred, And in a thousand places eke about the Woods be scattred. And for to reade thee what they are that shall perfourme the deede, It is thy mother and thine Auntes that thus shall make thee bleede. I know it shall so come to passe, for why thou shalt disdaine, To honour Bacchus as a God: and then thou shalt with paine Feele how that blinded as I am I sawe for thee too much. As olde Tiresias did pronounce these wordes and other such, Echions sonne did trouble him. His wordes prove true in deede, For as the Prophet did forespeake so fell it out with speede. Anon this newefound Bacchus commes: the woods and fieldes rebound With noyse of shouts and howling out, and such confused sound. The folke runne flocking out by heapes, men, Mayds and wives togither The noble men and rascall sorte ran gadding also thither, The Orgies of this unknowne God full fondely to performe, The which when Penthey did perceyve, he gan to rage and storme. And sayde unto them: O ye ympes of Mars his snake by kinde What ayleth you? what fiend of hell doth thus enrage your minde? Hath tinking sound of pottes and pannes, hath noyse of crooked home, Have fonde illusions such a force that them whome heretoforne No arming sworde, no bloudie trumpe, no men in battail ray Could cause to shrinke, no sheepish shriekes of simple women fray, And dronken woodnesse wrought by wine and roughts of filthie freakes And sound of toying timpanes dauntes, and quite their courage breakes? Shall I at you, yee auncient men which from the towne of Tyre To bring your housholde Gods by Sea, in safetie did aspyre, And setled*hem within this place the which ye nowe doe yeelde In bondage quite without all force and fighting in the fielde, Or woonder at you yonger sorte approching unto mee More neare in courage and in yeares? whome meete it were to see With speare and not with thirse in hande, with glittring helme on hed, And not with leaves. Now call to minde of whome ye all are bred, And take the stomackes of that Snake, which being one alone, Right stoutly in his owne defence confounded many one. He for his harbrough and his spring his lyfe did nobly spend.