Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/103

Book 10. O that I had been born in such a Clime, Not here, where 'tis the Country makes the Crime! But whither wou'd my impious Fancy stray? Hence Hopes, and ye forbidden Thoughts away! His Worth deserves to kindle my Desires, But with the Love, that Daughters bear to Sires. Then had not Cinyras my Father been, What hinder'd Myrrha's Hopes to be his Queen? But the Perverseness of my Fate is such, That he's not mine, because he's mine too much: Our Kindred-Blood debars a better Tie; He might be nearer, were he not so nigh. Eyes, and their Objects never must unite, Some Distance is requir'd to help the Sight: Fain wou'd I travel to some foreign Shore, Never to see my Native Country more, So might I to my self my self restore; So might my Mind these impious Thoughts remove, And ceasing to behold, might cease to love. But stay, I must, to feed my famish'd Sight, To talk, to kiss, and more, if more I might: More, impious Maid! What more canst thou design, To make a monstrous Mixture in thy Line, And break all Statutes Human and Divine? Can'st thou be call'd (to save thy wretched Life) Thy Mother's Rival, and thy Father's Wife? Confound so many sacred Names in one, Thy Brother's Mother! Sister to thy Son! And fear'st thou not to see th' Infernal Bands, Their Heads with Snakes, with Torches arm'd their Hands Full at thy Face th' avenging Brands to bear, And shake the Serpents from their hissing Hair? But thou in time th' increasing Ill controul, Nor first debauch the Body by the Soul; Secure the sacred Quiet of thy Mind, And keep the Sanctions Nature has design'd. Rh