Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/206

128 Now to the Rock he was advanc'd so nigh, Whirl'd from a Sling a Stone the Space would fly. Then bounding, upwards the brave Perseus sprung, And in mid Air on hov'ring Pinions hung. His Shadow quickly floated on the Main, The Monster could not his wild Rage restrain, But at the floating Shadow leap'd in vain. As when Jove's Bird, a speckled Serpent spies, Which in the Shine of Phœbus basking lies, Unseen, he Souses down, and bears away, Truss'd from behind, the vainly hissing Prey. To writh his Neck the Labour nought avails, Too deep th' imperial Talons pierce his Scales. Thus the wing'd Heroe now descends now soars, And at his Pleasure the vast Monster gores. Full in his Back, swift-stooping from above, The crooked Sabre to its Hilt he drove. The Monster rag'd, impatient of the Pain, First bounded high, and then sunk low again. Now, like a savage Boar, when chas'd with Wounds, And bay'd with op'ning Mouths of hungry Hounds, He on the Foe turns with collected Might, Who still eludes him with an airy Flight; And wheeling round, the scaly Armour tries Of his thick Sides; his thinner Tail now plies: Till from repeated Strokes out-gush'd a Flood, And the Waves redden'd with the streaming Blood. At last the dropping Wings, befoam'd all o'er, With flaggy Heaviness their Master bore: A Rock he spy'd, whose humble Head was low, Bare at an Ebb, but cover'd at a Flow. A ridgy Hold, he, thither flying gain'd, And with one Hand his bending Weight sustain'd; With th' other, vig'rous Blows he dealt around, And the Home-thrusts the expiring Monster own'd. In