Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/169

 The basenesse of the parties makes the thing it selfe obscure. Yet is the matter wonderfull. My selfe I you assure Did presently beholde the Pond, and saw the very place In which this wondrous thing was done. My father then in case, Not able for to travell well by reason of his age, To fetch home certaine Oxen thence made me to be his page, Appointing me a countryman of Lycia to my guide. With whome as I went plodding in the pasture groundes, I spide Amids a certaine Pond an olde square Aultar colourd blacke With cinder of the sacrifice that still upon it stacke. About it round grew wavering Reedes. My guide anon did stay: And softly, O be good to me, he in himselfe did say. And I with like soft whispering did say, Be good to mee. And then I askt him whether that the Altar wee did see Belonged to the Waternymphes, or Faunes or other God Peculiar to the place it selfe upon the which we yod. He made me aunswere thus: My guest, no God of countrie race Is in this Altar worshipped. That Goddesse claymes this place, From whome the wife of mightie Jove did all the world forfend: When wandring restlesse here and there full hardly in the end Unsetled Delos did receyve then floting on the wave, As tide and weather to and fro the swimming Iland drave. There maugre Latona staying by a Date and Olyf tree that sted In travail, of a paire of twinnes was safely brought abed. And after hir delivrance folke report that she for feare Of Junos wrath did flie from hence, and in hir armes did beare Hir babes which afterwarde became two Gods. In which hir travell In Sommer when the scorching Sunne is wont to burne the gravell Of Lycie countrie where the fell Chymera hath his place, The Goddesse wearie with the long continuance of hir race, Waxt thirstie by the meanes of drought with going in the Sunne. Hir babes had also suckt hir brestes as long as milke wold runne. By chaunce she spide this little Pond of water here bylow. And countrie Carles were gathering there these Osier twigs that grow So thicke upon a shrubbie stalke: and of these rushes greene: And flags that in these moorish plots so rife of growing beene.