Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/208

130 Pleas'd Hymen now his golden Torch displays; With rich Oblations fragrant Altars blaze. Sweet Wreaths of choicest Flow'rs are hung on high, And cloudless Pleasure smiles in ev'ry Eye. The melting Musick melting Thoughts inspires, And warbling Songsters aid the warbling Lyres. The Palace opens wide in pompous State, And by his Peers surrounded, Cepheus sate. A Feast was serv'd fit for a King to give, And fit for God-like Heroes to receive. The Banquet ended, the gay, chearful Bowl Mov'd round, and brighten'd, and enlarg'd each Soul. Then Perseus ask'd, what Customs there obtain'd, And by what Laws the People were restrain'd. Which told; the Teller a like Freedom takes, And to the Warrior his Petition makes, To know, what Arts had won Medusa's Snakes.

The Heroe with his just Request complies, Shows, how a Vale beneath cold Atlas lies, Where, with aspiring Mountains fenc'd around, He the two Daughters of old Phorcus found. Fate had one common Eye to both assign'd, Each saw by turns, and each by turns was blind. But while one strove to lend her Sister Sight, He stretch'd his Hand, and stole their mutual Light, And left both Eyeless both involv'd in Night. Thro' devious Wilds, and trackless Woods he past, And at the Gorgon-Seats arriv'd at last; But as he journey'd, pensive he survey'd, What wasteful Havock dire Medusa made. Here, stood still breathing Statues, Men before; There, rampant Lions seem'd in Stone to roar. Nor