Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/214

134 And all the Pleasures of this happy Feast, To Tumult turn'd, in wild Disorder ceas'd: So, when the Sea is calm, we often find A Storm rais'd sudden by some furious Wind. Chief in the Riot Phineus first appear'd, The rash Ringleader of this boist'rous Herd, And brandishing his brazen-pointed Lance, Behold, he said, an injur'd Man advance, Stung with Resentment for his ravish'd Wife, Nor shall thy Wings, O Perseus, save thy Life; Nor Jove himself; tho' we've been often told Who got thee in the Form of tempting Gold. His Lance was aim'd, when Cepheus ran, and said, Hold, Brother, hold; what brutal Rage has made Your frantick Mind so black a Crime conceive? Are these the Thanks that you to Perseus give? This the Reward that to his Worth you pay, Whose timely Valour sav'd Andromeda? Nor was it he, if you would reason right, That forc'd her from you, but the jealous Spight Of envious Nereids, and Jove's high Decree; And that devouring Monster of the Sea, That ready with his Jaws wide-gaping stood To eat my Child, the fairest of my Blood. You lost her then, when she seem'd past Relief And wish'd perhaps her Death, to ease your Grief With my Afflictions: Not content to view Andromeda in Chains, unhelp'd by you, Her Spouse, and Uncle; will you grieve that he Expos'd his Life the dying Maid to free? And shall you claim his Merit? Had you thought Her Charms so great, you shou'd have bravely sought That Blessing on the Rocks, where fix'd she lay: But now let Perseus bear his Prize away, By Service gain'd, by promis'd Faith possess'd; To him I owe it, that my Age is bless'd Still