Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/102

90 To hate thy Sire, had merited a Curse; But such an impious Love deserv'd a Worse. The neighb'ring Monarchs, by thy Beauty led, Contend in Crowds, ambitious of thy Bed: The World is at thy Choice; except but one, Except but him, thou canst not chuse, alone. She knew it too, the miserable Maid, E're impious Love her better Thoughts betray'd And thus within her secret Soul she said: Ah MyrhaMyrrha [sic]! whither wou'd thy Wishes tend? Ye Gods, ye sacred Laws, my Soul defend From such a Crime as all Mankind detest, And never lodg'd before in Human Breast! But is it Sin? Or makes my Mind alone Th' imagin'd Sin? For Nature makes it none. What Tyrant then these envious Laws began, Made not for any other Beast but Man! The Father-Bull his Daughter may bestride, The Horse may make his Mother-Mare a Bride; What Piety forbids the lusty Ram, Or more salacious Goat, to rut their Dam? The Hen is free to wed the Chick she bore, And make a Husband, whom she hatch'd before. All Creatures else are of a happier Kind, Whom nor ill Natur'd Laws from Pleasure bind, Nor Thoughts of Sin disturb their Peace of Mind. But Man a Slave of his own making lives; The Fool denies himself what Nature gives: Too busie Senates, with an over Care To make us better than our Kind can bear, Have dash'd a Spice of Envy in the Laws, And straining up too high, have spoil'd the Cause. Yet some wise Nations break their cruel Chains, And own no Laws, but those which Love ordains; Where happy Daughters with their Sires are joyn'd And Piety is doubly paid in Kind. O