Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/195

Book 4. The trembling Threshold, with Saturnia prest, The Weight of such Divinity confest. Before a lofty, adamantine Gate, Which clos'd a Tow'r of Brass, the Furies sate: Mis-shapen Forms tremendous to the Sight, Th' implacable, foul Daughters of the Night. A sounding Whip each bloody Sister shakes, Or from her Tresses combs the curling Snakes. But now great Juno's Majesty was known, Thro' the thick Gloom, all-heav'nly bright, she shone: The hideous Monsters their Obedience show'd, And rising from their Seats, submissive bow'd. This is the Place of Woe, here groan the Dead; Huge Tityus o'er nine Acres here is spread. Fruitful for Pain, th' immortal Liver bleeds, Still grows, and still th' insatiate Vulture feeds. Poor Tantalus to taste the Water tries, But from his Lips the faithless Water flies: Then thinks, the bending Tree he can command, The Tree starts backwards, and eludes his Hand. The Labour too of Sisyphus is vain, Up the steep Mount he heaves the Stone with Pain, Down from the Summet rouls the Stone again. The Belides their leaky Vessels still Are ever filling, and yet never fill: Doom'd to this Punishment for Blood they shed, For Bridegrooms slaughter'd in the Bridal Bed. Stretch'd on the rouling Wheel Ixion lies; Himself he follows, and himself he flies. Ixion, tortur'd, Juno sternly ey'd, Then turn'd, and toiling Sisyphus espy'd: And why (she said) so wretched is the Fate Of him, whose Brother proudly reigns in State? Yet still my Altars unador'd have been By Athamas, and his presumptuous Queen. What