Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/186

108 No more against the dazling Youth she strove, But silent yielded, and indulg'd his Love. This Clytiè knew, and knew she was undone, Whose Soul was fix'd, and doated on the Sun. She rag'd to think on her neglected Charms, And Phœbus, panting in another's Arms. With envious Madness fir'd, she flies in Haste, And tells the King, his Daughter was unchaste, The King, incens'd to hear his Honour stain'd, No more the Father, nor the Man retain'd. In vain she stretch'd her Arms, and turn'd her Eyes To her lov'd God, th' Enlight'ner of the Skies. In vain she own'd, it was a Crime, yet still It was a Crime not acted by her Will. The brutal Sire stood deaf to ev'ry Pray'r, And deep in Earth entomb'd alive the Fair. What Phœbus could do, was by Phœbus done, Full on her Grave with pointed Beams he shone: To pointed Beams the gaping Earth gave way, Had the Nymph Eyes, her Eyes had seen the Day, But lifeless now, yet lovely still, she lay. Nor more the God wept, when the World was fir'd, And in the Wreck his blooming Boy expir'd. The vital Flame he strives to light again, And warm the frozen Blood in ev'ry Vein: But since resistless Fates deny'd that Pow'r, On the cold Nymph he rain'd a Nectar-show'r. Ah! undeserving thus (he said) to die, Yet still in Odours thou shalt reach the Sky. The Body soon dissolv'd, and all around Perfum'd with heav'nly Fragrancies the Ground. A Sacrifice for Gods up-rose from thence A sweet, delightful Tree of Frankincense. The