Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/122

48 What cou'd, alas! the weeping Mother do? From this to that with eager Haste she flew, And kiss'd her sprouting Daughters as they grew. She tears the Bark that to each Body cleaves, And from their verdant Fingers stript the Leaves: The Blood came trickling, where she tore away The Leaves and Bark: The Maids were heard to say, "Forbear, mistaken Parent, Oh! forbear; "A wounded Daughter in each Tree you tear; "Farewel for ever." Here the Bark encreas'd, Cloas'd on their Faces, and their Words suppress'd. The new-made Trees in Tears of Amber run, Which harden'd into Value by the Sun, Distil for ever on the Streams below: The limpid Streams their radiant Treasure show, Mixt in the Sand; whence the rich Drops convey'd Shine in the Dress of the bright Latian Maid.

Cycnus beheld the Nymphs transform'd, ally'd To their dead Brother on the Mortal Side, In Friendship and Affection nearer bound; He left the Cities and the Realms he own'd, Thro' pathless Fields and lonely Shores to range, And Woods, made thicker by the Sisters Change. Whilst here, within the dismal Gloom, alone, The melancholy Monarch made his Moan, His Voice was lessen'd, as he try'd to speak, And issu'd through a long extended Neck; His Hair transforms to Down, his Fingers meet: In skinny Films, and shape his oary Feet; From both his Sides the Wings and Feathers break; And from his Mouth proceeds a blunted Beak: All Cycnus now into a Swan was turn'd, Who, still remembring how his Kinsman burn'd, To