Page:Ovid's Metamorphoses (Vol. 2) - tr Garth, Dryden, et. al. (1727).djvu/154

140 Tho' with pale Cheeks, wet Beard, and dropping Hair, None but my Ceyx could appear so fair: I would have strain'd him with a strict Embrace, But thro' my Arms he slipt, and vanish'd from the Place: There, ev'n just there he stood; and as she spoke, Where last the Spectre was she cast her Look: Fain would she hope, and gaz'd upon the Ground, If any printed Footsteps might be found. Then sigh'd, and said; this I too well foreknew, And my prophetick Fears presag'd too true: 'Twas what I begg'd, when with a bleeding Heart I took my Leave, and suffer'd thee to part; Or I to go along, or thou to stay, Never, ah never to divide our Way! Happier for me, that all our Hours assign'd Together we had liv'd; ev'n not in Death disjoin'd! So had my Ceyx still been living here, Or with my Ceyx I had perish'd there: Now I die absent, in the vast Profound; And me, without my self, the Seas have drown'd: The Storms were not so cruel; should I strive To lengthen Life, and such a Grief survive; But neither will I strive, nor wretched thee In Death forsake, but keep thee Company. If not one common Sepulcher contains Our Bodies, or one Urn our last Remains, Yet Ceyx and Alcyonè shall join, Their Names remember'd in one common Line. No farther Voice her mighty Grief affords, For Sighs come rushing in betwixt her Words, And stop'd her Tongue; but what her Tongue deny'd, Soft Tears, and Groans, and dumb Complaints supply'd. 'Twas Morning; to the Port she takes her way, And stands upon the Margin of the Sea: That Place, that very Spot of Ground she sought, Or thither by her Destiny was brought, Where