Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/256

174 The tim'rous Throng their sacred Rites forbore, And from their Heads the verdant Laurel tore; Their haughty Queen they with Regret obey'd, And still in gentle Murmurs softly pray'd. High, on the Top of Cynthus' shady Mount, With Grief the Goddess saw the base Affront; And, the Abuse revolving in her Breast, The Mother her Twin-offspring thus addrest. Lo I, my Children, who with Comfort knew Your God-like Birth, and thence my Glory drew; And thence have claim'd Precedency of Place From all but Juno of the heav'nly Race, Must now despair, and languish in Disgrace. My Godhead question'd, and all Rites Divine, Unless you succour, banish'd from my Shrine. Nay more, the Imp of Tantalus has flung Reflections with her vile paternal Tongue; Has dar'd prefer her mortal Breed to mine, And call'd me childless; which, just Fate, may she repine! When to urge more the Goddess was prepar'd, Phœbus in haste replies, Too much we've heard, And ev'ry Moment's lost, while Vengeance is defer'd. Diana spoke the same. Then both enshroud Their heav'nly Bodies in a sable Cloud; And to the Theban Tow'rs descending light, Thro' the soft yielding Air direct their Flight, Without the Wall there lies a champion Ground With even Surface, far extending round, Beaten and level'd, while it daily feels The trampling Horse, and Chariot's grinding Wheels. Part of proud Niobè's young rival Breed, Practising there to ride the manag'd Steed, Their Bridles boss'd with Gold, were mounted high On stately Furniture of Tyrian Dye. Of these, Ismenos, who by Birth had been The first fair Issue of the fruitful Queen, Just