Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/197

 Betweene the seas Ionian and Aegean. To have killde This worthie knight, Medea had a Goblet readie fillde With juice of Flintwoort venemous the which she long ago Had out of Scythie with hir brought. The common bruit is so That of the teeth of Cerberus this Flintwoort first did grow. There is a cave that gapeth wide with darksome entrie low, There goes a way slope downe by which with triple cheyne made new Of strong and sturdie Adamant the valiant Hercle drew The currish Helhounde Cerberus: who dragging arsward still And writhing backe his scowling eyes bicause he had no skill To see the Sunne and open day, for verie moodie wroth Three barkings yelled out at once, and spit his slavering froth Upon the greenish grasse. This froth (as men suppose) tooke roote And thriving in the batling soyle in burgeons forth did shoote, To bane and mischiefe men withall: and forbicause the same Did grow upon the bare hard Flints, folke gave the foresaid name Of Flintwoort thereunto. The King by egging of his Queene Did reach his sonne this bane as if he had his enmie beene. And Thesey of this treason wrought not knowing ought had tane The Goblet at his fathers hand which helde his deadly bane: When sodenly by the Ivorie hilts that were upon his sword Aegeus knew he was his sonne: and rising from the borde Did strike the mischiefe from his mouth. Medea with a charme Did cast a mist and so scapte death deserved for the harme Entended. Now albeit that Aegeus were right glad That in the saving of his sonne so happy chaunce he had, Yet grieved it his heart full sore that such a wicked wight With treason wrought against his sonne should scape so cleare and quight. Then fell he unto kindling fire on Altars everie where And glutted all the Gods with gifts. The thicke neckt Oxen were With garlands wreathd about their homes knockt downe for sacrifice. A day of more solemnitie than this did never rise Before on Athens (by report). The auncients of the Towne Made feastes: so did the meaner sort, and every common clowne. And as the wine did sharpe their wits, they sung this song: O knight Of peerlesse prowesse Theseus, thy manhod and thy might Through all the coast of Marathon with worthie honor soundes,