Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/275

Book 6. At this a sullen Grief her Voice supprest, While silent Passions struggle in her Breast. Now, at her Lap arriv'd, the flatt'ring Boy Salutes his Parent with a smiling Joy: About her Neck his little Arms are thrown, And he accosts her in a pratling Tone. Then her tempestuous Anger was allay'd, And in its full Career her Vengeance stay'd; While tender Thoughts, in spite of Passion, rise, And melting Tears disarm her threat'ning Eyes. But when she found the Mother's easy Heart, Too fondly swerving from th' intended Part; Her injur'd Sister's Face again she view'd: And, as by turns surveying Both she stood, While this fond Boy (she said) can thus express The moving Accents of his fond Address; Why stands my Sister of her Tongue bereft, Forlorn, and sad, in speechless Silence left? O Procné, see the Fortune of your House! Such is your Fate, when match'd to such a Spouse! Conjugal Duty, if observ'd to him, Would change from Virtue, and become a Crime; For all Respect to Tereus must debase The noble Blood of Great Pandion's Race. Strait at these Words, with big Resentment fill'd, Furious her Look, she flew, and seiz'd her Child; Like a fell Tigress of the savage Kind, That drags the tender Suckling of the Hind Thro' India's gloomy Groves, where Ganges laves The shady Scene, and rouls his streamy Waves. Now to a close Apartment they were come, Far off retir'd within the spacious Dome; When Procné, on revengeful Mischief bent, Home to his Heart a piercing Poinyard sent. Itys, with rueful Cries, but all too late, Holds out his Hands, and deprecates his Fate; I.