Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/291

Book 7. At last withdrawn, and by the Crowd unseen, Pressing her Hand, (with starting Sighs between) He supplicates his kind, and skilful Queen. O Patroness! Preserver of my Life! (Dear when my Mistress, and much dearer Wife) Your Favours to so vast a Sum amount, 'Tis past the Pow'r of Numbers to recount; Or cou'd they be to Computation brought, The History would a Romance be thought: And yet, unless you add one Favour more, Greater than all that you conferr'd before, But not too hard for Love and Magick Skill, Your past are thrown away, and Jason's wretched still. The Morning of my Life is just begun, But my declining Father's Race is run; From my large Stock retrench the long Arrears, And add 'em to expiring Æson's Years. Thus spake the gen'rous Youth, and wept the rest. Mov'd with the Piety of his Request, To his ag'd Sire such filial Duty shown, So diff'rent from her Treatment of her own, But still endeav'ring her Remorse to hide, She check'd her rising Sighs, and thus reply'd. How cou'd the Thought of such inhuman Wrong Escape (said she) from pious Jason's Tongue? Does the whole World another Jason bear, Whose Life Medea can to yours prefer? Or cou'd I with so dire a Change dispence: Hecate will never join in that Offence: Unjust is the Request you make, and I In Kindness, your Petition shall deny; Yet she that grants not what you do implore, Shall yet essay to give her Jason more; Find Means t' encrease the Stock of Æson's Years, Without Retrenchment of your Life's Arrears; Pro-