Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 1) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/318

234 I felt her lower to my Bosom fall, And while her Eyes had any Sight at all, On mine she fix'd them; in her Pangs still prest My Hand, and sigh'd her Soul into my Breast; Yet, being undeceiv'd, resign'd her Breath Methought more chearfully, and smil'd in Death. With such Concern the weeping Heroe told This Tale, that none who heard him cou'd with-hold From melting into sympathizing Tears, Till Æacus with his two Sons appears; Whom he commits, with their new-levy'd Bands, To Fortune's, and so brave a Gen'ral's Hands.