Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/108

96 For nine long Nights the Nuptial-Bed they shun, And sanctifying Harvest, lie alone. Mix'd with the Crowd, the Queen forsook her Lord, And Ceres' Pow'r with sacred Rites ador'd: The Royal Couch, now vacant for a Time, The crafty Crone, officious in her Crime, The first Occasion took: The King she found Easie with Wine, and deep in Pleasures drown'd, Prepar'd for Love: The Beldame blew the Flame, Confess'd the Passion, but conceal'd the Name. Her Form she prais'd; the Monarch ask'd her Years; And she reply'd, The same thy Myrrha bears. Wine, and commended Beauty fir'd his Thought; Impatient, he commands her to be brought. Pleas'd with her Charge perform'd, she hies her home, And gratulates the Nymph, the Task was overcome. Myrrha was joy'd the welcome News to hear; But clog'd with Guilt, the Joy was unsincere: So various, so discordant is the Mind, That in our Will a diff'rent Will we find. Ill she presag'd, and yet pursu'd her Lust; For guilty Pleasures give a double Gust. 'Twas Depth of Night: Arctophylax had driv'n His lazy Wain half round the Northern Heav'n, When Myrrha hasten'd to the Crime desir'd: The Moon beheld her first, and first retir'd: The Stars amaz'd, ran backward from the Sight, And (shrunk within their Sockets) lost their Light. Icarius first withdraws his holy Flame: The Virgin Sign, in Heav'n the second Name, Slides down the Belt, and from her Station flies, And Night with sable Clouds involves the Skies. Bold Myrrha still pursues her black Intent; She stumbled thrice, (an Omen of th' Event;) Thrice shriek'd the Fun'ral Owl, yet on she went, Secure