Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/293

Book 7. Transform'd the Prospect of the briny Deep, Made sleeping Billows rave, and raving Billows sleep; Made Clouds, or Sunshine; Tempests rise, or fall; And stubborn lawless Winds obey my Call: With mutter'd Words disarm'd the Viper's Jaw, Up by the Roots vast Oaks, and Rocks cou'd draw; Make Forests dance, and trembling Mountains come, Like Malefactors, to receive their Doom; Earth groan, and frighted Ghosts forsake their Tomb. Thee, Cynthia, my resistless Rhymes drew down, When tinkling Cymbals strove my Voice to drown; Nor stronger Titan could their Force sustain, In full Career compell'd to stop his Wain: Nor could Aurora's Virgin Blush avail, With pois'nous Herbs I turn'd her Roses pale; The Fury of the fiery Bulls I broke, Their stubborn Necks submitting to my Yoke; And when the Sons of Earth with Fury burn'd, Their hostile Rage upon themselves I turn'd; The Brothers made with mutual Wounds to bleed, And by their fatal Strife my Lover freed; And, while the Dragon slept, to distant Greece, Thro' cheated Guards, convey'd the Golden Fleece. But now to bolder Action I proceed, Of such prevailing Juices now have need, That wither'd Years back to their Bloom can bring, And in dead Winter raise a second Spring. And you'll perform't You will; for lo! the Stars, with sparkling Fires, Presage as bright Success to my Desires: And now another happy Omen see! A Chariot drawn by Dragons waits for me. With these last Words she leaps into the Wain, Stroaks the Snakes Necks, and shakes the Golden Rein; That