Page:Metamorphoses (Ovid, 1567).djvu/69

 But God almighty held his hand, and lifting both away Did disapoint the wicked Act. For straight he did convay Them through the Ayre with whirling windes to top of all the skie, And there did make them neighbour starres about the Pole on hie. When Juno shining in the heaven hir husbands minion found, She swelde for spight: and downe she comes to watry Tethys round And unto olde Oceanus, whome even the Gods aloft Did reverence for their just deserts full many a time and oft, To whome demaunding hir the cause: And aske ye (quoth she) why That I which am the Queene of Goddes come hither from the sky? Good cause there is I warrant you. Another holdes my roome. For never trust me while I live, if when the night is coome, And overcasteth all the world with shadie darknesse whole, Ye see not in the heigth of heaven hard by the Northren Pole Whereas the utmost circle runnes about the Axeltree In shortest circuit, gloriously enstalled for to bee In shape of starres the stinging woundes that make me yll apayde. Now is there (trow ye) any cause why folke should be afrayde To do to Juno what they list, or dread hir wrathfull mood, Which only by my working harme doe turne my foes to good? O what a mightie act is done? How passing is my powre! I have bereft hir womans shape, and at this present howre She is become a Goddesse. Loe this is the scourge so sowre Wherewith I strike mine enimies. Loe here is all the spight That I can doe: this is the ende of all my wondrous might, No force. I would he should (for me) hir native shape restore, And take away hir brutish shape, like as he hath before Done by his other Paramour, that fine and proper piece Of Argos whom he made a Cow, I meane Phononeus Niece. Why makes he not a full devorce from me, and in my stead Straight take his Sweetheart to his wife, and coll hir in my bed? He can not doe a better deede (I thinke) than for to take Lycaon to his fatherinlaw. But if that you doe make Accompt of me your foster childe, then graunt that for my sake, The Oxen and the wicked Waine of starres in number seven, For whoredome sake but late ago receyved into heaven, May never dive within your waves. Ne let that strumpet vyle