Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/61

 The Westerne Rivers Rhine and Rhone and Po were in like case: And Tyber unto whome the Goddes a faithfull promise gave Of all the world the Monarchie and soveraigne state to have. The ground did cranie everie where and light did pierce to hell And made afraide the King and Queene that in that Realme doe dwell. The Sea did shrinke and where as waves did late before remaine, Became a Champion field of dust and even a sandy plaine. The hilles erst hid farre under waves like Ilelandes did appeare So that the scattred Cyclades for the time augmented were. The fishes drew them to the deepes: the Dolphines durst not play Above the water as before, the Seales and Porkpis lay With bellies upward on the waves starke dead: and fame doth go That Nereus with his wife and daughters all were faine as tho To dive within the scalding waves. Thrise Neptune did advaunce His armes above the scalding Sea with sturdy countenaunce: And thrise for hotenesse of the Ayre, was faine himselfe to hide. But yet the Earth the Nurce of things enclosde on every side (Betweene the waters of the Sea and Springs that now had hidden Themselves within their Mothers wombe) for all the paine abidden, Up to the necke put forth hir head and casting up hir hand, Betweene hir forehead and the sunne as panting she did stand With dreadfull quaking, all that was she fearfully did shake, And shrinking somewhat lower downe with sacred voyce thus spake: O king of Gods and if this be thy will and my desart, Why doste thou stay with deadly dint thy thunder downe to dart? And if that needes I perish must through force of firie flame, Let thy celestiall fire O God I pray thee doe the same. A comfort shall it be to have thee Author of my death. I scarce have powre to speak these words (the smoke had stopt hir breath). Behold my singed haire: behold my dim and bleared eye, See how about my scorched face the scalding embers flie. Is this the guerdon wherewithall ye quite my fruitfulnesse? Is this the honor that ye gave me for my plenteousnesse And dutie done with true intent? for suffring of the plough To draw deepe woundes upon my backe and rakes to rend me through? For that I over all the yeare continually am wrought? For giving foder to the beasts and cattell all for nought?